


Something Borrowed

by CGotAnAccount



Series: Something Borrowed [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Getting Married at 30 Katt, M/M, Salty Shiro, Scheming Matt, fbw katt, oblivious keith, pining Sheith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-11-05 06:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 62,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17913848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: The little black velvet box contains both the best and worst idea Matt has ever had.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had to.

The little black velvet box contains both the best and worst idea Matt has ever had.

It had been a decade since the drunken night that he poured himself into Keith's lap and sucked the taste of tequila off his tongue, hiccuping slurred praises about how soft his sweaty hair was as he patted Keith's cheeks. Keith had been a good sport then, steadying him with a pair of strong hands on his hips and an easy smile on his face as Matt wobbled and nearly face planted onto the concrete. Nursing a broken heart hadn't been his best look in those days, still convinced that someday the perfect girl would come along and sweep him off his feet, but Keith had been there every step of the way and a very inebriated Matt had come up with the best plan ever to make sure it stayed that way.

“Kitten...” Matt had squinted at Keith's smirking face, swaying slightly underneath his hands. “I gotta proposition for ya.”

Keith had hummed back, wrinkling his nose as Matt's pizza roll and beer breath wafted into his face.

“If this proposition involves me holding back your hair in twenty minutes I might have to pass.”

Matt scowled at him, coherent enough to be offended and drunk enough to lack the self awareness to realize it would probably be closer to ten minutes.

“Nooo.” He huffed, grabbing Keith's left hand and yanking it to eye level between them. “We should get married!”

Keith's eyebrows had climbed to his hairline as a pregnant pause slipped between them, not that Matt even noticed as he wiggled Keith's hand again in emphasis.

“Uh...” Keith had cleared his throat, giving Matt a nervous smile as his eyes scanned the crowd behind them for a shock of white hair. “I don't know if that's such a good idea while we're in school buddy... and don't you like that one girl anyway?”

Matt's ensuing eye roll was so forceful it made his stomach turn along with it.

“Not now, obviously.” He scoffed and flapped Keith's hand dismissively. “I mean like if we're thirty and still pathetic losers so we can buy a house to fuck in and share health insurance and taxes and all that good shit.”

Keith hadn't been able to hold back his snicker at Matt's slurred pragmatism - narrated by his own flopping hand. He also wasn't one to back down from a stupid plan, especially not one as delightfully ridiculous as this one, and thus the pinky swear to get hitched at thirty was born.

Five minutes afterward Keith had spent the rest of his night holding Matt's sweaty hair as he contemplated a future in which he might have to marry this idiot, vomit stained hoodie and all...

And here that idiot now sits, contemplating the meteorite band in his hands as it glimmers with a subtle sheen in the low light of the living room. The promise had been a running joke between them, brought up every few years on one birthday or another as they both crept toward spinster status. The odds of either one of them dating sunk lower and lower as Matt realized he'd need someone who was practically an AI if he wasn't going to be annoyed all the time, and Keith... well. Keith was as likely to date as ever, provided Shiro suddenly had an epiphany ten years in the making that removed his willful ignorance to the lovesick man ready to elope at any moment.

Emotional repression aside, that's not to say that they hadn't had their fair share of experiences in the meantime... they had fallen into the easy comfort of each other's beds as their lives stayed on similar paths, but it never kept them from getting good and railed by a stranger every now and then. Keith preferred his lovers halfway across the world and usually had a neck riddled in love bites to prove it whenever he came back from his trips to visit his mother's bases. Krolia had bitched him out for half an hour the last time she had called for 'fucking his way through half her trainees', but he never had more than a half smirk and a shrug to say about them when pressed. It was almost enough to make Matt jealous – not because there were other guys, but of the fact that his own latest company had been the girl who offered to peg him for help with her grad work. The sex had been fantastic, but her thesis was such a steaming pile of logical fallacies and sloppy proofing that he couldn't even get it up the next time she called.

The knowledge that he wasn't stopping Keith from pursuing someone real made it that much easier to pick out a ring for a laugh, not to mention that he and Pidge were fairly certain Shiro would rather throw himself off a cliff than let Keith marry someone as a drunken back-up plan. With any luck at all he'd pull his head out of his ass on Keith's birthday so Matt can get the ring engraved with 'Told You So' while he still has the jeweler's discount. The party was going to be a perfect opportunity, set in the apartment that the three of them shared like it was every year because they're all cheap. Allura and Hunk had already determined that it would be space themed and drafted up decorations accordingly, of course. Keith had rolled his eyes at their insistence and shrugged, arguing that he had already done all the hard work of aging and wouldn't be doing much other than consuming cupcakes and getting drunk – which meant all Matt had to do was convince him that he was serious without laughing at Shiro's face.

Really, this is a no lose scenario for them. Either Matt keeps his promise and they get married and causally fuck and share a dog while enjoying the benefits of legal domestic protections... or Shiro panics and Keith gets his actual dream come true – and Matt gets to be the world's smuggest human for the rest of his life. Either way, the lack of his own dream girl in this scenario is negligible, they'll be building pretty great robots for that soon anyway. As soon as he and Pidge perfect time travel he's going to go back and high-five himself for his amazing foresight.

But first, he's going to enjoy the fuck out of wedging himself firmly under Shiro's skin, starting right now as the oblivious idiot opens the door and hangs his bag neatly on the hook. He's got his nose buried in his phone as he toes off his shoes, missing the way Matt snaps the little box shut.

“Hey, I was thinking of ordering tacos for dinner, do you want some?” Shiro's easy smile after a full day's work is almost sickening, but Matt isn't about to turn down free tacos – especially since he's going to be cashing in a large portion of good will in the near future.

“Sounds good to me.” Matt shrugs at him, tossing the box from hand to hand. “They have chicken?”

“Mhm. And beef, fish, beans, tofu, and pork too.” Shiro's face is comically serious as he studies the menu, brow furrowed as he flicks a glance up at Matt. “Which do you think Keith would prefer?”

“Pork.” Matt doesn't even hesitate, knowing that's the exact opposite of what Keith would want, and that Shiro knows it full well. The fact that Shiro is even asking someone else about Keith's preferences is a farce. Shiro's face scrunches up even more and his thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before he casts a furtive look at Matt, taps twice, and shoves it in his pocket.

“Okay, it'll be like twenty minutes.”

He wanders over to the fridge and pulls out two beers, wiggling one in Matt's direction with a raised eyebrow. Matt wiggles his hand back and continues tossing the box as Shiro plops down next to him on the beat up couch and sets the beer on the old coffee table. He watches with idle curiosity for a moment, sipping his beer and leaning back before it finally gets the better of him.

“What's in the box?”

Matt fights the smirk threatening to bloom across his face as he continues his nonchalant toss and catch.

“Keith's birthday present.”

“Oh?” One white eyebrow raises to hang out with his floof as Shiro fails to hide his interest, free hand reaching out toward the box. “What is it?”

Clicking his tongue, Matt tugs the box away and settles it into his lap with a grin. “It's a surprise.”

His grin widens even further as Shiro just barely bites down on his scowl, and for a moment he contemplates telling him it's a diamond encrusted cock ring. Shiro would no doubt believe him since he was convinced that he and Keith spent every moment when Shiro wasn't home balls deep in each other – which was not only a generous compliment to Matt's level of physical fitness, but also severely underestimated the amount of time they spent playing video games half naked and covered in cheese dust.

Sexy.

“It's not even my birthday, what does it matter if I know?” Shiro grumbles into the mouth of his bottle to mask his pout. “I wouldn't ruin it for him...”

The gusting sigh that escapes Matt's lungs could have launched more ships than Helen of Troy.

“It's just meteorite, you big baby...” Matt tosses the box up once more before tucking it between his thighs and grabbing the bottle on the table. “You know, to go with the space theme.”

“Oh, that's all?” Shiro blinks at him, face morphing in confusion as he rubs at the back of his head. “I mean, that's really cool though... can I see it?”

Matt snorts at him and slips the box in his pocket. “ _That's all_?” He mocks, pulling a face at Shiro as he throws back a swallow of beer. “Now you can't, just for being a bully.”

He gets an eye roll and a nudge to the side in return. “I bought you tacos, you have to be nice to me.” Shiro's face is sly as he wiggles his phone in Matt's direction. “And I'm going to see it anyway when he opens it.”

“Oh you sure will, Shirogane.”

Matt's answering grin is unsettlingly toothy and Shiro is forcibly reminded of those shark nature documentaries that he used to watch as a kid. His grandmother had always said that they were more afraid of him than he was of them, but with the way Matt's eyes glinted with mischief he wasn't willing to bet on it. Either way, the brief desire to clarify Matt's ominous statement by withholding tacos is interrupted by a thud against the door, ten minutes too early to be tacos according to his phone.

The thud turns into a rattle, and then some muffled cursing before Keith comes tumbling through, bag in his teeth and hands full of papers. Two sets of eyebrows raise at him from the couch as he spits the bag out, ignoring how it lands with a disconcerting crunch, and stomps over to the counter to dump the paperwork all over it.

“Long day?” Shiro throws him a sympathetic smile and shakes his bottle toward the kitchen. “There's more beer in there and tacos coming.”

Keith grumbles in response, toeing off his shoes in the middle of the kitchen and grabbing a beer before shuffling over and throwing himself onto the couch between them with a groan.

“Beef?” Keith grunts out the question and Shiro hesitates, throwing a sheepish glance Matt's way before nodding, earning a grunt of satisfaction this time. Keith takes a long pull of his beer before jabbing an elbow into Matt's ribs with a scowl.

“Asshole!” Matt yelps, scooting over an inch and rubbing his side. “What was that for?”

Keith shoots him a baleful look over the top of his bottle. “Sanda wants the post-test paperwork for the new prototype engine done by tomorrow. _I_ said that the engineers that made the engine should be the ones doing it, but she informed me that _someone_ had convinced her the test pilot should be the one analyzing the readout.”

Matt winces and offers him a wobbly grin. “You're the one who felt how it responded though?”

He earns another elbow to the ribs for his troubles.

“I can tell you we didn't blow up and that she pulls left when I let her go. Anything else on your ninety-seven pages of bullshit is all you-” Keith's tone slides into a growl and Matt tries to blink an SOS at Shiro. Of course he's no help, looking far too amused as Keith puffs up like an angry cat next to him. He had always said that the one good thing that came from his crash was the lack of paperwork – now he just has to grade the abysmal flight sim runs and teach a new crop of aspiring aviators. “-and half of the shit on there I can't even read! How the hell am I supposed to know the normal thermal parameters for operation when I didn't build the thing! It didn't hit red, good enough!” He takes another long pull and narrows his eyes at Matt, pointing a finger accusingly. “And the gauge wasn't even labeled! It was just red or blue! On fire or not on fire!”

His face is turning an alarming shade of red now as he winds himself up again and Shiro finally takes his cue to slide an arm around his shoulders, patting him on the hand as he pulls him into his chest and out of maiming range.

“Easy there, buddy.” He croons low in Keith's ear, like he's talking to a feral cat about to launch itself into space. “It'll be fine, all three of us can work on it together.” He shoots Matt a sharp glance over Keith's head and Matt raises his hands in surrender. “But first let's all calm down and have some tacos, okay?”

Keith slumps like a puppet with its strings cut and falls back into Shiro's hold. Neither of them quite nuzzle, but it's a near thing… near enough that Matt has to suppress the urge to gag at their totally-platonic-nothing-to-see-here bullshit. Hopefully soon he won't have to watch another minute of them staring longingly across the room at each other as they mentally recite the other's favorite things and sigh like it's a high school reproduction of Romeo and Juliet. They don't even blink when Shiro's phone chirps in his pocket and Matt takes the opportunity to hurl himself off the couch, grabbing Shiro's wallet from the counter as he scrambles to the door in an effort to escape.

“Don't worry, I'll get them!” At this point he'll take any excuse to avoid looking at them while they definitely don't snuggle. The delivery guy hands over the bags of food and Matt deposits them onto the table as he digs through the different labels – chicken, beef, and Shiro's tofu. He can't hold back the smirk as he snags some plates and brings everything over to the coffee table, handing Keith his dish while making aggressive eye contact with the limpet behind him. “Your favorite, beef.”

The beef in question scowls at him and disentangles himself from Keith, sitting him upright and grabbing a plate for each of them. Matt hands him his container with wiggling eyebrows, pointedly ignoring the disapproving look he gets in return. “Thank you, Matthew.” Shiro sniffs, arching an eyebrow coolly at him. Matt only grins wider and shovels down the food, content in his efforts to slide under Shiro's skin.

Keith sits between them, totally oblivious as he demolishes the tacos like they insulted his family. His ability to ingest seemingly without chewing or breathing is nearly worthy of scientific research, and he's done before either of the other two have even finished a single taco. Temporarily mollified, he nudges both of them out of his cushion space and stretches out like a contented cat, smooshing them into the arms of the couch with his feet and back. He lets out a delicate belch, settling in for a nap while his pieces of resigned furniture share a look over his curled form and go back to eating their tacos - apparently paperwork will have to wait for naptime.

* * *

Two weeks later Matt finds himself in the same place, trapped under Keith's feet as the birthday boy, cheerful and drunk, paps them into his lap in tune with whatever Hunk is singing in the kitchen. He's about four beers in and his cheeks are positively rosy at this point, offsetting the smear of purple frosting across his cheekbone that he hasn't bothered to wipe off. Keith has been exiled to the living room while they set up the kitchen and Matt had opted to keep him company, if only to make sure he doesn't get totally plastered before he can enact his plan.

“Mattycakes!” Keith chirps at him, tapping his feet for emphasis. Drunk Keith has always been the most disarming version of him, sweet and adorably affectionate to his friends in a way he never is otherwise. “Did you know you're like... my favorite?” Matt grins back at him and grabs his toes, lacing his fingers between them just to make Keith flail. “No! I take it back, that's weird!”

Matt snickers and lets go, wiping his hands on his pants as he throw Keith a mischievous look. “What, you don't like people playing with your toe beans, Kitten?”

The attempt at a scowl is cute at best and Matt can't resist leaning over to smear the frosting away with his thumb, leaving a light stain behind. Keith blinks at the frosted appendage before scowling in earnest and twisting around to yell into the kitchen.

“Lance, you dirty liar, you said I got it all!”

Lance's head pops in the doorway with an angelic grin as he wiggles purple frosting coated fingers. “Oops, did I miss a spot?” Keith growls and gives an uncoordinated flail in an effort to fling his body off the couch, but Matt lurches forward to grab his calf muscles before he can faceplant into the coffee table.

“Easy Kitten!” Matt tugs Keith's legs further into his lap as he claws at the arm of the couch. “No murder on your birthday.”

The flailing pauses as Keith's face scrunches up in thought, no doubt considering that his birthday would be the most sympathetic time to commit murder – but thinking is hard and he distracts himself with a bark of laughter as a slim finger hooks into the back of Lance's collar and yanks, dropping him firmly to the floor. Allura steps into the living room to stand over him, nudging him with a toe. “Be nice to Keith on his special day.” She shoots Keith a wink and drags Lance's groaning corpse back into the kitchen. “Don't worry, the present we got you makes up for him being an ass.”

Keith tips his bottle at her in a salute and settles back down, papping his toes against Matt's chest this time. “Anyway! You and Shiro are my _best_ friends.” He jabs his big toe into Matt's sternum and eyes him intently. “Did you know that?”

Matt pushes the toe away with a grimace as he rubs at the spot that's probably going to bruise. “Yes, Kitten, Shiro and I are your best friends, we both love you too.” He has to repress the snicker at the thought of how different that love might be as he leans over and reaches out to snag the beer bottle out of Keith's fingers. Ignoring the squawk, he drains it himself and sets it onto the table with a clink. “Now let's make sure you're a little more sober for presents, okay?” Keith wrinkles his nose but doesn't complain otherwise, content to prop his feet back up against Matt's chest and hum to himself until he's allowed in the kitchen.

It only takes about an hour for Hunk and Allura to finish their 'surprise' decorations, covering the entire kitchen in sparkly space themed crafts with a big nebula mirror cake in the middle of the table surround by gifts. Even if they've done it every year since they all became close friends, it still gets Keith a little choked up that he's got people in his life that care enough to throw a party for him. Shiro is the first to notice his wobbly smile and steps up to wrap him in a hug, hooking his chin over the top of Keith's head as he cups the back of his neck.

“Happy thirtieth, buddy.” He rubs his hand along Keith's back before pulling away and holding him at arm's length with a small smile. “How's it feel to be an old timer like me?”

Keith chokes out a laugh and swipes at his eyes as he beams up at Shiro. “Shut up, you're like seven.”

Shiro pouts down at him and snags an envelope off the table, wiggling it in his face. “Well if you're going to be a bully then I guess I'll take someone else to the observatory...”

Keith's jaw drops as he yanks the envelope out of Shiro's hands and tears it open, eyes flicking between the tickets and Shiro's face. “No fucking way, I've been trying to get these for forever!” He sets them on the table and throws himself into Shiro's arms where he leans smugly against the counter. Shiro catches him with a grunt, laughing as Keith tries to squeeze the life out of him.

“Glad you like em, cause you're gonna be stuck road tripping with me to get there.”

Keith nods excitedly into his chest, pulling back to beam at him. “Of course! It'll be just like old times.”

Matt gives his best deadpan to the rest of the room while they give each other sappy grins. Pidge and Lance are making gagging noises over the sink while Allura and Hunk hug each other and look on with hopeful smiles. It's objectively disgusting how useless these two idiots are for each other.

Matt clears his throat loudly. “Anyway!” He grabs a box at random and shoves it into Keith's chest. “There's more stuff to open.”

Keith has shame enough to duck his head with a sheepish blush, giving Shiro one last smile as he turns to the small pile. Ripping open the starry paper one after another doesn't take much time at all, and soon enough he's got a new helmet for his motorcycle, some novelty t-shirts with a delightfully grumpy cat on them, a new knife, and a giant novelty dildo with a gift card taped to the bottom.

“Lance! That is not what we agreed on!” Allura smacks the back of his head as Lance wheezes in laughter against the counter. She turns to Keith with an annoyed huff and an apologetic grimace. “The other gift must be at home, I'll bring it over next time.”

Keith shrugs and turns the giant dildo over in his hands, 'The Great American Challenge' is carved into the bottom and he gives Lance a wicked grin as he brandishes it like a baseball bat. “You know I never could back down from a challenge...”

Lance blanches immediately, a look of horror on his face as he holds up his hands in surrender.

“Dude I don't think that's actually meant for human usage.”

Hunk nods sagely next to him as he eyeballs the giant shaft. “Lance might be right for once, that does seem medically inadvisable.”

Keith just shrugs and slaps it on the table upright where it wags back and forth with the force.

“I've probably taken worse, right Matt?”

Matt feels his entire soul leave his body as Shiro's gaze turns to him, his former red-faced shock turning into something much more terrifying as his eyes narrow. The dildo continues to wave mockingly, as if telling him to say goodbye to this mortal coil.

“Uhh...” Matt tugs at his collar and swallows audibly, eyes darting between Shiro's steely murderface and Keith's wicked grin. “Speaking of giving you something big...” He fumbles with the box in his pocket, pulling it out and tossing it at Keith's face.

Keith catches it one handed and cocks his head at it, flicking a look up to Matt as an incredulous look starts to creep across his face.

“Is this...?”

“Just open it, Kitten.” Matt winks at him, suddenly a little more nervous, despite having gone over the plan with Pidge ad nauseam.

One dark eyebrow raises before Keith flicks the box open with his thumb and looks inside, head whipping up as soon as he catches sight of the glimmer. “Holy fuck did you really?” Matt shoves his fist in his mouth to cover his snickering and Keith throws his head back cackling as he stumbles over to Matt and throws an arm around him. “You asshole, I thought for sure you would have forgotten.”

Matt shakes his head with a grin, elbowing Keith in the side as he slips the ring from the box. “No shot, Kitten. You've been my solid fallback since we were twenty, you think I'm letting you off that easy?” He grabs Keith's left hand and slides the ring on his finger, giving it a firm shake and a fist bump when he lets go. “You're stuck with me now.”

Keith is still giggling when Matt releases his hand, admiring the way the ring glitters in the kitchen light. “This is actually really fucking cool, what is it?”

Matt shrugs under his arm, clearly pleased with himself as Keith smiles down at the ring. “It's polished meteorite with a platinum inlay, shouldn't scratch up at work or anything.”

“Holy shit.” Keith's eyebrows raise to his hairline as admires it. “You went all out.”

“Well, you deserve it...” Matt turns to the rest of the room, all shell shocked except for Pidge, and smiles at them mischievously. “...doesn't he?”

Hunk and Lance just blink at them slack jawed, waiting for the 'just kidding!' that isn't going to come. Allura has the wherewithal to plaster on her best bewildered smile as she steps in for a hug.

“This is great news!” She smooshes them together against her chest, giving them an awkward pat on the back before stepping away. “How long have you two been... together?” Shiro makes a pained noise next to her and Matt throws him a glance before grinning at her and throwing an arm around Keith's shoulders.

“If by 'together' you mean 'how long ago did we agree to get hitched at thirty if we're both still lonely and fucking casually?'... then about ten years.”

She blinks at them before giving a slow shrug and nodding. Hunk nods with her and punches Lance in the shoulder. “That's a pretty good idea, we could have done that.” Lance scrunches up his face and looks at Allura who is now snickering at him from across the counter.

“I dunno man, I mean, I love you and all...”

“No.” Hunk cuts him off, hands up defensively. “That was a joke, please don't entertain the thought seriously.”

Pidge has gone from snickering on her perch to flat out cackling as she holds onto the edge of the counter to keep from falling over. Her tiny feet kick at the edge of the stool as she rocks back and forth, one hand shooting out to clutch at Shiro's shoulder as she wheezes. “Oh my god he actually did it!”

Shiro nods dumbly next to her, face utterly blank as he takes in Keith's crooked grin, admiring the ring on his finger. He'd always been dimly aware in the back of his mind that this could happen, but he was so sure they would bail on it like all of their stupid jokes that he hadn't prepared for this. Keith looks up from his hand and pins Shiro with the softest look as he reaches out with his new jewelry. “You'll be my best man, right Shiro?” Shiro knows the answering smile on his face must be as brittle as his heart feels as he swallows hard and closes the gap between them, pulling Keith into his chest so he doesn't have to see the ring.

“Of course, Keith... anything for you.”

He closes his eyes and buries his face in Keith's hair, not willing to look anyone else in the face while he can still feel himself trembling. Strong arms wrap around his back and squeeze once before Keith pulls away and looks to Matt with a grin. Matt smirks back and steps up to hug Shiro as well, and it takes every ounce of self control to not crush his rib cage while he has the chance.

“Thanks man, it means a lot to have your support.” Matt pulls back and aims another of those toothy grins at Shiro. “We're both hopeless at party planning, so I hope you're ready to help pick out venues and all that.”

It feels mocking, but Shiro is sure that he must be projecting his pain onto his best friend – pain that he doesn't really have a right to feel anyway. Keith can do whatever he wants, so if he wants to be someone's second choice... someone's backup plan... someone who doesn't even love him... someone who won't appreciate him every goddamn day like he deserves...

He swallows down the bitter feelings and fixes Matt with a biting smile of his own, shaking his hand with just a little too much force as his mind starts to churn with a plan.

“Don't worry Matt, I've got this.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next two weeks are painfully normal. Shiro doesn't know what he had expected, maybe some grand, sweeping, mushy garbage between the two of them – or maybe they'd get in that newly engaged phase he'd heard about where they fuck loudly everywhere, but not this... nothing. Keith still drags himself out of bed to meet Shiro for their morning jog together, they still takes turns showering and share a cup of coffee afterward while they wait for Matt to drag himself out of bed...

But now there's a glimmer on the fingers wrapped around Keith's steaming mug. Sometimes he fidgets with it, spinning it with his thumb absentmindedly while they chat about work projects, the new prototypes he's been testing, and the fresh crop of cadets Shiro's been whipping into shape. It's still the same toast, still the same conversation, still the same Keith...

When Matt finally does emerge from his lair – still separate from Keith's room – he staggers over to the counter and grabs his same old black coffee before slumping into a heap at the table. Keith snorts and takes a sip of his own, ignoring Matt's theatrics as he continues to focus his attention on Shiro's latest woes with a new hotshot.

“And he refuses to stay in formation for even one drill!” Shiro grumbles, mouth half full of toast as he lets his hands drop into the middle of the table, utterly exasperated already.

Keith snickers and raises an eyebrow, deadpan. “Wow, you've never had to deal with someone like that before.”

Matt snorts from his heap and Shiro furrows his brows, shaking his head firmly. “No, you were completely different.” He pauses, searching for the right words as his eyes trace over Keith's face. “You were... so full of potential. You just needed someone to care.”

Matt rolls his head where it's pillowed on his arms to cock an eyebrow at Shiro's moony face, but he doesn't even notice – still fixated on Keith's softened expression.

“Shiro, you know my life would have been a lot different without you.” Keith reaches out to place his hand on top of Shiro's, stroking his thumb over scarred knuckles as he smiles softly at him. “I'm sure you'll make just as big of an impact on these cadets.”

Matt's groan is muffled by his arms as he rolls his face back into the table. This has gone on ten years and two weeks longer than necessary already and he'll be damned if he willingly subjects himself to another minute of it.

Shiro stares at the hand covering his own, dark band gleaming as long fingers stroke his knuckles. It's everything he didn't know he wanted to see, and simultaneously the most nauseating thing he's ever laid eyes on. He shoots Keith a tight lipped smile and pulls his hand back to his coffee mug, clearing his throat as he scoots his chair back. “Well. I'm sure everything will turn out alright.” His tone is clipped as he turns to the sink, missing the look of confusion on Keith's face. “We should head out if we're going to be on time.”

Keith sighs and downs the rest of his own coffee, looking between the ring on his finger and Shiro's back. “Yeah, I guess we should.” He nudges Matt's shoulder, smiling slightly at the annoyed grunt. “Hey, wake up.”

“M'not going today.” Matt grumbles, peeking one eye out above his crossed arms. “Tell them I died.”

An inelegant snort escapes Keith as he moves around behind Matt to hook his arms underneath his armpits and drag him bodily out of the chair. “If you die then who's gonna build the rockets I ride?”

Matt snickers, letting his legs flop to the ground as dead weight as he turns enough to catch Keith's eye, eyebrows wiggling. “I'll show you a rocket to ride, Kitten.”

A mug shatters in the sink.

“Fuck!” Shiro shakes out his hand with a growl, prosthetic fingers flexing as he scowls down at them.

Keith sucks in a breath and drops Matt right on his ass, stepping over him to get to Shiro. He crowds against his back, wrapping one arm around his wrist and cradling his palm with the other.

“Are you okay?” His dark eyes are full of concern and Shiro can't help but blush under the attention. He swallows hard and looks back down at his traitorous hand, wiggling the fingers to get the ceramic shards out. Keith's fingers skate over the joints and brush away smaller fragments, careful not to nick any of the sensory receptor as he goes. “Did you get cut anywhere?”

Shiro shakes his head and curls his hand into a fist, trapping Keith's fingers inside. “It just spasmed, I'm okay.” Keith looks up at him, mouth pulled to the side, obviously not convinced but not wanting to fight.

“Hey, what about me?” Matt grumbles from the floor, leaning on one arm and rubbing at his tailbone. “You can't just break a guy's ass and walk away.”

“That's what he said.” Keith mutters under his breath, quirking a smile at Shiro before turning to roll his eyes at Matt, arms crossed. “If you'd gotten up yourself this wouldn't have happened.”

Matt flops back dramatically, starfishing onto the floor as he groans. “If this nagging is what I have to look forward to in marriage...” Keith sputters a laugh, letting go of Shiro's wrist and wandering over to nudge Matt's ribs with his foot.

“I didn't even complain when you left your crusty boxers on my floor for like two weeks. Go ahead and find someone else who will put up with your grody ass.” He nudges again and Matt grunts, swatting at the foot and rolling to pull himself up on Keith's leg. He gets about halfway up before collapsing with his face smooshed against Keith's stomach, pouting up at him with an outstretched arm. Keith rolls his eyes and drags him the rest of the way up before sending him stumbling with a shove toward the door. “Go get your shoes on, loser.”

Matt sniffs and brushes the dust off himself as he grabs his sneakers and backpack, long ago having forgone the actual Garrison uniform when he's just going to get it greasy in the lab. “I'm telling everyone you're an abusive spouse.”

Keith huffs a laugh and grabs his bag with the flightsuit sticking out of it haphazardly before turning to throw Matt a threatening look. “Not yet I'm not.” He raises his hand in a threatening gesture as he walks over to the door. “Give me a whip and an hour.”

“Ooh, kinky.” Matt winks at him from where he leans against the wall. “Don't threaten me with a good time if you won't follow through.”

The twisting feeling in Shiro's stomach makes him consider stealing Matt's idea and claiming an early death... had these two always been this much of an old married couple and he'd just never noticed? Their ritual of carpooling together on the days they share a schedule now seems like the worst idea he's ever had, the thought of sitting in an enclosed space while they tease each other and... _smile._ He swallows down the noxious thoughts and scrapes the shards of broken mug into the garbage before grabbing his own neat briefcase and shuffling to the door.

“Come on.” He grunts, snagging his keys off the wall and striding through the door without a backward glance. “We're going to be late.”

They share a look behind him, shrugging as Matt mouths 'yikes' and ushers Keith through the door ahead of him. The car ride is punctuated by aborted attempts at conversation as Shiro stares through the windshield like they're going to be driving into battle. Matt finally clears his throat as they near the gates to the Garrison, thoroughly annoyed at Shiro's attitude, and leans between the front seats to hook his chin over Keith's headrest.

“Hey Kitten, do you wanna look at that book of color scheme chippy things Allura gave us when we get home?”

Keith half twists to shrug at him. “I guess? It's pizza night though, how long do we have anyway?”

Matt hums at him. “Dunno, whenever right?” Smiling at him conspiratorially, he leans forward and blows a piece of Keith's hair out of his face. “It's not like we're in a hurry.”

Shiro narrows his eyes at them in the rear view mirror and turns up the music about ten notches, drowning out all conversation. “Oh I love this song!” He yells over it with a manic grin. “My favorite!”

Matt raises an eyebrow at him as Keith winces from the sudden blast of noise. It's some terrible country song that Matt knows for a fact Shiro doesn't like and only keeps on for Keith's sake.

Soon enough they pull up to the security checkpoint and the guard flinches back at the noise when Shiro rolls the window down and hands over his badge. “Good morning!” He shouts out the window, crazy eyes in full effect as the guard slaps the gate open and salutes hastily before clapping his hands over his ears. Shiro pays him no mind as he speeds into the hanger and screeches to a stop, yanking his keys out of the ignition and practically vaulting through the door. “Have a great shift, see you at five!”

And then he's jogging into the main building, leaving Matt and Keith to blink at each other.

“That was weird, right?” Keith asks, digging his pinky into his ear to stop the ringing. “Like, it wasn't just me?”

Matt nods, massaging his temples as he climbs out of the back seat.

“Definitely not just you.”

Keith watches Shiro's retreating form as he pulls his bag from the floorboards, concern etched across his face. “Do you think the tech in his arm is bothering him?”

Matt exhales hard from his nose as he slings his backpack over his shoulder, stepping over to clap a hand against Keith's back. “Something like that, buddy.”

Keith looks over at him and sighs, mouth still pulled to the side. “Whatever it is, I hope he lets someone help... he can be so stubborn.” He turns to catch sight of Shiro slipping around the corner and sighs again. “Oh well...” Plastering on a smile he starts toward the main hangar bay, turning to walk backwards as Matt heads to the lab. “We're still on for pizza though, right?”

“Yeah, bud.” Matt calls back with a wave over his shoulder. “Wouldn't miss it for the world!”

 

As it turns out, he would miss it for something far smaller.

Somehow he can't help but suspect foul play when Commander Iverson plunks down an entire pile of paperwork onto his desk at 4:45.

“Holt, brass needs this analyzed by tomorrow, something about the effects of your new hypersonic drive on the auditory learning capabilities of the new cadets.”

Matt rubs between his eyebrows, flipping through the stack with one hand. “Sir, we made sure it had no adverse effects on personnel in the initial planning phases, long before it ever went into production – let alone testing.”

Iverson shrugs down at him, looking not entirely unsympathetic. “You know how it is Holt, sometimes they just want something highlighted and handed back.”

Sighing, Matt nods and grabs a yellow marker from his desk, pulling the cap off with his teeth.

“Who decided this was an issue anyway? I should send them a nice fruit basket.”

Iverson grunts what might be a laugh as he turns to leave. “Order came from Sanda, but Shirogane brought it up today at the meeting. He's concerned that the frequencies might be hurting his students' performance during lectures and testing, so...” He waves his hand in a non-committal motion as he walks out the door.

The caps hits the desk with a clatter as Matt's jaw drops. Of all the pseudoscience bullshit he's had to deal with over the years he never imagined a betrayal like this. Whipping his phone out, he punches in Shiro's number furiously, grinding his teeth as it rings.

“Hey Ma-”

“Don't you 'Hey Matt' me you giant fucking traitor!” Matt spits into the receiver, marker creaking ominously in his hand. “You know damn well the hypersonic drive has nothing to do with your students. Your classrooms are across the entire campus from the flight line!”

“Oooh... that...” Shiro's voice is sheepish even through the phone. “You see, someone complained about the noise today, so-”

“We weren't even testing it today, try again.” Matt grits out, glare boring a hole in the wall of his office. “And maybe try to sound less like you got caught doing something naughty by your mother.”

There's an audible swallow on the other side of the line as Shiro is quiet for a minute. Matt waits him out, tapping the marker on the desk rapidly as his blood pressure reaches a boiling point. He's about ready to blow up again when a ragged exhale comes over the line.

“I'm sorry Matt.” The pen tapping stops as Matt furrows his brows, not expecting Shiro to cave. “I guess I just wanted a night with Keith to myself before you guys leave.”

“What.” Matt blurts, one hand coming up to cover his eyes. “Why do you think we're leaving.”

“Well, you know...” Shiro hedges, obviously fumbling with the phone as the line crackles. “You're going to get married and move out and I'll need to find somewhere to go...”

“Shiro, you're an idiot.” Matt cuts him off, dragging the hand down his face. “We're not going anywhere anytime soon, and neither one of us can make coffee worth a damn, so you'd have to live with us anyway.”

“Oh.” Shiro's tone is conflicted and an awkward pause stretches over the line. “Um.. sorry about the paperwork then.”

“Yeah.” Matt grumbles, eyeing the stack in front of him. “You're gonna be when I cash in like eight favors for this.” He can practically hear the flinch on the other side of the line and heaves a sigh. “Whatever. Just explain to Keith that I can't make it to pizza night because of work, and I'm not because I'm ditching him... I won't even tell him it's your fault.”

“I... I'm sorry.”

Shiro's voice is small and Matt's scowl eases into something softer.

“It's fine... have fun tonight.” He hangs up before Shiro can respond and shoots off a text to Keith that he's stuck with last minute paperwork but Shiro will be filling in for him as the far less cool pizza buddy. He gets a shrug emoji in response and snorts, picking up his marker again before genius strikes.

One phone call later and the pizza has been ordered, pineapple and sausage with pepperoni cut into hearts – Keith and Shiro's favorite that Matt refuses to touch with a ten foot pole. A few taps after that and their sound system is locked to play Marvin Gaye all night long until he gets home to manually disable it.

Holts are nothing if not adaptable, so if he can't enjoy a night of pizza he can at least still give a firm and very salty nudge to his two favorite idiots. Settling in for the long haul, he pulls up the security screen from their apartment on his tablet for entertainment, grabs the whiskey bottle from the bottom of his desk, and gets to highlighting.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The color coordinated paint chips come out about three drinks into pizza night while Marvin blares from the kitchen stereo. If Shiro doesn't look at Matt's ugly posters in the living room he can almost imagine they're picking out the colors for their own wedding.

“What if we did the whole thing black and red?” Keith asks, squinting as he holds up a set of chips that are definitely not black or red. “That would be like, fast... right?”

Shiro hiccups and tips Keith's hands down to bring the chips more into the light, but they're still pink and dark blue no matter how he looks at them. “Well...” He gives Keith's face a critical look, wondering if he's just fucking with him or if he needs to get his eyes checked. “If that was black and red I would imagine it might go faster... but what does that mean?”

Keith flicks an indignant look up at him, brandishing the swatches in front of him like a sword. “Like... faster. You know?”

Shiro shakes his head and takes another bite of their stupid heart sliced pizza.

“No.”

Blowing a frustrated breath through his nose, Keith's gaze wanders around the room like someone as drunk and colorblind as he is will magically appear to clarify. “You know, like... it'll be done quick! Fast wedding!”

“Fake wedding.” Shiro grumbles through a mouthful, scowling at Keith's hand while he gesticulates.

“That too.” Keith points at him, nodding sagely. “That's why it'll be fast – black and red and fake.” He shrugs and takes another swig of beer. “Nobody is gonna make stupid sappy speeches for people who just want the excuse to party, right?”

Shiro's expression is mulish as he shrugs, still chewing the now cold pizza. “Then why even bother having a wedding.”

Keith shrugs back again, feeling like they're stuck in an endless loop of shrugging at each other, like maybe neither one of them actually knows anything anymore. It's a little too existential for his current level of inebriation.

“Why not? It's not like anyone is ever going to want to marry either one of us, so if we want a big-ass cake and the ability to force people to say nice things about us for a day we gotta do it ourselves, right?”

Shiro's brow furrows, personally offended at the statement but both unwilling and unable to voice exactly why. He settles for the safe option, patting Keith on the knee as he picks up another swatch, one that's actually red this time.

“I would say nice things about you every day.”

Keith's smile is soft and a little melancholy as he takes the proffered color. “I know Shiro, you always do.” His gaze flicks from the lovely silver of Shiro's eyes to the deep red in his hands. “Oh! This is nice.”

It's labeled 'Ruby' - not quite maroon, but darker than scarlet, shimmering slightly as he turns it over in his hands. It would be the perfect color for lacy lingerie to go along with the 'Let's Get It On' wafting from the kitchen speakers. The same color that he's sure his cheeks are staining as he tries valiantly not to imagine Shiro in said lingerie.

“Uh, maybe a little racy for a wedding though.” He squeaks out, hiding his blush behind a mouthful of pizza.

“Heh, racy...” Shiro snickers at him, plucking it out of his fingers and waggling it in Keith's face. “You said you wanted to go fast.... race-y.... get it?”

Keith groans through his mouthful and levels Shiro with an unimpressed stare, thankful for the dose of terrible humor like a bucket of ice to his wandering thoughts.

“Okay Dad.”

Shiro smirks in response and pulls another paint chip out, silver-white like his hair this time, and holds it to his face with a smoldering look. “I prefer Daddy, like a silver fox.” The devilish smirk is a total knockout as Keith's brain struggles to process the image and maintain his breathing at the same time. Shiro flashes him one last wink before dropping the face and laughing as he turns to dig more colors out of the pile.

Keith takes the much needed moment of reprieve to catch his breath and press a palm to his pounding heart. He is far too drunk to handle that with grace and tact, especially while trying to pick out colors for the joke wedding to his best friend because his other best friend doesn't love him like that.

Shiro remains oblivious to his internal crisis as he digs through the pile, humming and discarding as he goes. His hands still on one labeled 'amethyst' and he picks it up with a wistful smile.

“What about this one?” He turns and holds it out to Keith. “It matches your eyes...” Keith blinks at him, cheeks darkening as his lips part in surprise. “I- I mean, Matt would probably like that.” He clears his throat and drops the swatch back into the pile and picks out one labeled 'emerald'. “And it would look good with green.” The smile he tries on feels like it's the wrong size and his laugh is forced as he continues. “Which, you know Matt is going to vote for that.”

“Oh, uh... yeah.” Keith stammers, staring at the purple swatch where it lies. “He probably would, wouldn't he?” He's suddenly struck with the mental image of a wedding decked out in silver and purple, with deep red accents and decorations that glimmer like swirling nebulas. The image leaves him breathless with the thought of silver eyes and a dark purple tuxedo sweeping him around the dance floor underneath a smattering of twinkling lights. He doesn't even like to dance, but he's never yearned for something more in his life...

And something like that has never been more out of reach, his make-believe groom content to help him marry another man.

Clearing his throat he jolts to his feet and jerks a thumb down the hallway. “I... bathroom.” He ignores Shiro's questioning hum as he shuts the door behind him and sits on the lid of the toilet. Pulling out his phone with shaky hands, he texts the one person who he knows will understand.

'Matt. I'm still in love with him.'

He drops his head into his hands, barely waiting fifteen seconds before he gets a text back, like Matt had been waiting to hear from him.

'I know buddy, hang in there.'

Hang in there? For what. For Shiro to find someone and get married and live happily ever after while Keith watches as a man married into a comfortable back-up plan? His phone buzzes again, dislodging his spiral like Matt can read his mind.

'It's not like we're going to be monogamous, the second he pulls his head out of his ass I'm divorcing you and claiming to be a widow for sympathy points. Until then you're stuck with me forever.'

He can't help but snicker at that one, smile creeping up on his mood, grateful that Matt always knows just what to say. Climbing to his feet is easier now and he splashes some water on his face for good measure before heading back out into the living room. Shiro's head jerks up from his phone, face concerned as he tucks it away into his pocket.

“You okay Keith?”

“Mhmm.” He nods, sinking back down into his pillow nest on the floor as he takes another sip of beer. “Just thought I might toss it.”

Shiro wrinkles his nose in sympathy, eyeing the suspect pizza. “It was the pineapples wasn't it? Maybe Matt was right...”

Keith barks a laugh and nudges the box away. “Don't ever let him catch you saying that, he'll never let us order it again.” He shoots a thoughtful look to the security camera positioned by the door and narrows his eyes as Marvin Gaye continues to croon in the background. “Although somehow I feel like he's always listening.”

Shiro nods thoughtfully, shivering as he looks around the room.

“Sometimes I swear he can read minds. The other day I wore the same underwear twice in a row and he called me out.” He wrinkles his nose and looks down at himself. “There's no way he could have known, I sniff tested them before putting them back on and my shorts were black.”

Keith shakes his head and takes another sip of beer.

“Spooky.”

As if summoned by dark ritual, Matt swoops into the apartment with a grin and another case of drinks. “Hello pals, how goes the pizza night?” His eyes glimmer with mischief and Keith feels a shiver run down his spine. He hadn't even heard the garage door, but then again, Matt must have gotten a ride home since he and Shiro had taken the car. Giving a noncommittal shrug, Keith gestures over to the speakers with a raised eyebrow. Matt's grin widens. “Oooh, mood music, I like it.”

Shiro gives him a flat look and crosses himself with the beer bottle, as if Matt could even be stopped by a higher power. “Yeah.” He squints across the room over to where they'd tried to put a box over the speaker. “It's been playing all night... it must be _broken._ ”

“Oh?” The look Matt shoots them is angelic as he walks over to the counter and plucks the box off. Fingers cup his chin as he gives an exaggerated hum, one eyebrow arched all the way up before he reaches out delicately with one finger and pokes the top. It stops playing immediately. “Huh, I must have the magic touch.”

His self-satisfied smirk has Keith pursing his lips to avoid the giggles bubbling up inside his chest. Sometimes he feels like he should pinch himself to make sure he really did get so lucky to have a ridiculous best friend willing to trap his other best friend into a night of romantic pizza and mood music - even if it is all for nothing in the end. As long as Shiro isn't uncomfortable with Matt's meddling, Keith is willing to try just about anything except actually getting rejected by Shiro outright and making it awkward forever. It's a sobering thought, but Matt's over the top nonchalance pulls him from his musings as he struts over with a bottle in hand and throws himself dramatically across Shiro's lap.

“Man, that paperwork sure was the worst!” Draping one arm across his eyes and wrapping the crook of his elbow around Shiro's neck, Matt lets out a gusty sigh. “It felt especially pointless for reasons I cannot pinpoint, even with my considerable intellect.”

Shiro colors underneath him, stubbornly refusing to look Matt in the eye as he takes a pull from his own bottle. “Maybe you should take care of your things better.” He grumbles into the mouth of his bottle as he shifts underneath Matt's arm. It's a poor choice.

“Beg pardon?” The arm lifts from Matt's face, revealing a very toothy smile underneath. “I thought I heard you say something related to my paperwork.” His smile grows wider, and Keith suddenly wonders if people are supposed to have that many molars. “Because if you did I would love to hear your incredible insight.”

Shiro shrinks in on himself, eyes darting everywhere but the menace in his lap as the gleam in Matt's eyes grows more manic. “No! Just...” He coughs into his fist and makes frantic eye contact with an amused Keith, finding no help beyond the quirk of pretty lips. “Drunken musings, don't mind me.”

Matt's eyes narrow as he stares up at Shiro. “That's what I thought.” He shifts again, settling himself more comfortably and stretching his feet over to Keith, wiggling his toes in his lap. “Kitten?” His tone is saccharine and Keith rolls his eyes before setting the bottle down and digging his thumbs into the soles of Matt's feet.

Shiro looks to the ceiling at the first groan coming from his lap, praying to whatever deity is out there to strike him dead on the spot. He's never been that lucky though, and he suffers through Matt's pleased noises as he picks through the pile of swatches, pulling out combinations so offensive that Shiro hopes he's not serious. When the pea soup green and rust orange come out he feels the need to put his foot down.

“Matt, buddy...” Shiro cringes at the swatches as Matt holds them up to his cheeks to take a pouty-faced selfie. “Those are...”

“Oh my god, that's so fucking ugly Matt, holy shit.” Keith doubles over cackling as Matt continues to snap more pictures in different poses, arching his back suggestively with the backdrop of Shiro's thighs. Matt doesn't even spare him a glance as he twists to get his ass in the shot with a peace sign in front of the paint chips, and Keith wheezes harder at his expression. “You could not pay me to decorate with those.”

“You just wait, Kitten.” His thumbs fly over the keyboard of his phone as he posts the photos online, pinging Shiro with the notification from '2Holt4U' that he pointedly ignores. “We're gonna have matching velvet tuxes in these colors.” He looks up and wiggles his eyebrows with a grin. “They're gonna be like those pillows so you can brush it one way and it's green, brush it the other and it's orange.” Shiro's stomach turns at the mental image as Keith howls in laughter, wiping at his eyes and hiccuping as he leans over Matt's feet.

“Is that so it'll hide all the vomit when you drink too much?” Keith teases, digging a knuckle into Matt's arch and drawing a yelp. Matt kicks out gently at him in retaliation, snickering at Shiro's long suffering sigh under him.

“You know it.” He leans heavily on Shiro's chest as he twists and pushes himself into a seated position, pulling his feet from Keith's reach. “In sickness and in health includes tequila induced sickness, right Shiro?” He elbows Shiro in the ribs as he slides to sit next to him. “Won't he be oath bound to hold my hair back forever?”

Shiro gives him a chilling side-eye and shrugs, reaching for the cold pizza again. “Until death decides it's time for you to part...”

Matt considers for a moment before popping his lips. “Okay then!” He drops the offending paint swatches back in the pile and pushes them away with a finger. “Not those two I guess...” He shoots Keith a wide-eyed look and gets a half shrug in return before clearing his throat and examining the pile more closely. Shiro is still intent on chewing his pizza with frightening intensity as he stares at a spot on the far wall. Matt narrows his eyes at him in thought, then at Keith who can't quite mask his concern for Shiro's sudden shift in mood. His fingers creep into the pile and snag three swatches out in quick succession, tossing them into Keith's lap to inspect.

Ruby. Amethyst. Silver.

“What do you think about these?” Expression carefully neutral, he does his best not to let the anything sly slip into his tone. “For real this time.”

Keith looks down at them, hands clenching in his lap as he sucks in a breath. Shiro turns at the sound, still chewing morosely, but unable to ignore a potentially distressed Keith. The soft look on Keith's face almost makes him wish it had been distress. Dark hair swings in his face like a curtain as he stares down at the swatches, one finger extending to trace across them. His eyes are suspiciously shiny when he looks up at Matt.

“How did you know?”

Matt quirks an equally soft smile back at him and taps the side of his nose with a finger. “Don't I always know?” Keith huffs a laugh and drops his gaze back into his lap, clutching the colors like a lifeline, and Shiro wants to die. He can see Keith now, laughing in a starry room, eyes sparkling on the happiest day of his life. He'll be dressed to match the décor of course, probably in a deep red tux that will make his eyes look beautiful and Shiro will have to stand there and give a speech about how wonderful it is that he and Matt get to live their happy little bullshit together... then they'll leave and spend who knows how long in bed together in some paradise while Shiro sits in the empty apartment waiting for them to get back. Waiting to pretend everything is fine and make them the good coffee in the morning, because they'll probably be tired from keeping each other up all night and...

“I don't feel good.” He scrambles to his feet, upending Matt in the process. He ignores the startled squawk as he steps back and grabs his bottles off the table, unable to look them in the eyes. “I'm going to bed.” The bottles get tossed in the recycling as he practically runs out of the room, eyes clenched shut as Matt's quiet voice floats down the hallway.

“I'm sorry, Kitten, I tried...”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Misting rain on a lazy evening provides the perfect opportunity for Shiro to corner Keith. It had been a short day, his last class wrapping up early on Keith's off shift, and he had probably driven a little faster than advisable to get home – but the promise of time just for the two of them was a lure stronger than the fear of getting pulled over. By the time he drops his bag on the floor he's on full alert, honing in on the pair of feet that are visible through the cracked patio door, bouncing along to a hummed tune and half mumbled lyrics. He pads out onto the patio, pushing the door open slightly to reveal Keith sprawled sideways over the chair, eyes shut as he bobs along to whatever happens to be piping through his earbuds. The man looks painfully cozy with his hair tucked up into a messy bun and a pair of Shiro's stolen sweats and a hoodie pushed up to his knees and elbows. There's a smile curled over his lips and the ghost of a sway in his shoulders as he jams out, heedless of the sprinkles that make their way through the patio screen and cover him in a damp sheen.

Shiro can't resist reaching out to tug on his sock clad toe, startling Keith so badly he nearly launches himself sideways out of the chair.

“Jesus fuck!” The yelp tears out of Keith's throat an octave higher than usual as he windmills in an effort not kiss the concrete. Shiro lurches forward to snag his wrist, yanking him back into the chair with an apologetic smile as Keith fixes him with a flushed scowl. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry!” He lets go of Keith's wrist and hold his hands up defensively, stepping over to settle into the other chair. “I couldn't resist, your toes are too cute.”

Keith's flush darkens as he wrinkles his nose at Shiro.

“They are not cute. They're toes.”

Shiro shrugs at him and stretches his legs, tucking his feet underneath Keith's chair where he's now curled like a cat, oversized clothing pooling around him. Cute.

“Either way, I've been meaning to talk to you.” He tries to keep his voice light and his smile easy as his heart rate picks up to betray his nerves. “We haven't gotten much time together lately.”

Keith's mouth pulls to the side and his eyes drop to the sleeve he's picking at, shoulders slumping as he sighs. “Yeah...” He mumbles, popping out his ear buds and setting them on the little table next to him. “I guess we haven't, have we?” The tone of his voice seeps dangerously close to bitter melancholy, even though his eyes are clear as he looks up at Shiro. “Are you mad at me for this whole thing?”

Shiro's first reaction is an incredulous laugh bursting from his chest before his brain catches up and he slaps a hand over his mouth. Keith's scowl deepens, and he rushes to clarify.

“No! No.” Shiro waves his hand as if he could dispel the worry like so much smoke in the air. “Of course not. I could never be mad at you.”

The furrow between Keith's brows eases a touch, but the worried quirk of his lips remains as he chews on his thoughts. Shiro lets him wrestle with the words, patiently waiting as Keith fidgets, opening his mouth and closing it again before he leans forward and blurts it out.

“Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Shiro swallows hard. Keith has always taken his word as gold, probably more than he should considering Shiro's obvious conflict of interest here. He takes a moment to search Keith's anxious face, pinched as though he was waiting to be struck. His collar is suddenly too tight as he tries to think of the words to put Keith at ease when all he wants to do is scream that of course it's a bad idea, it's a terrible idea. Instead, he drags a hand through his hair and sighs down at his knees, gathering his resolve as he meet's Keith's wavering gaze.

“No. I don't think it's a bad idea.”

Keith slumps like a puppet with his strings cut, tension leaving him all at once. Smiling now, he pulls his knees to his chest and hooks his chin over them, peering at Shiro with an adorably earnest face. “Then what's got you so wound up about it?”

Shiro hesitates, not wanting to plant seeds of doubt immediately after reassuring him it wasn't a bad idea, but unwilling to let his concerns go unvoiced. “It's not a huge deal...” He hedges, hoping Keith will let it drop so he can approach it another time, but Keith rolls one wrist impatiently, waiting for him to spit it out. “I just worry about you being someone's back up plan, you know?” Keith opens his mouth to protest, but Shiro hurries through the rest of his sentence, knowing if he doesn't get it out all at once he'll lose steam entirely. “You deserve to be the love of someone's life, Keith... I know this isn't really a big deal to either of you, but it hurts to see you accept being someone's drunken joke.”

Shiro's heart is pounding in his ears, too close to a confession for comfort as Keith's face softens.

“Shiro...”

“I know, it's not my place...” Shiro sighs, planting his elbows on his knees and scrubbing his face with his hands. “But I want you to be so happy Keith...”

“Shiro.” Slim fingers slide under his chin, tipping his face up to meet dark eyes. “It's okay.” Keith's smile is wistful as his hand slides around to cup Shiro's jaw. “I'll be happy no matter what as long as I have you two as friends, right? None of this matters.” His thumb strokes Shiro's cheekbone and it takes every ounce of willpower not to nuzzle into his palm and press a kiss there. Fingertips dig into the soft space behind his jaw as Keith pulls him forward, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “All I need is you by my side.”

His breath is hot against Shiro's lips, eyelashes brushing his cheek as their noses slide together, and Shiro thinks he's going to vomit from how hard his heart is pounding. “Keith...” He breathes, licking his lips and exhaling shakily as his own hand comes up to cup the back of Keith's neck. “Keith, I...” Keith makes a soft noise, almost a whimper and Shiro's fingers tighten in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “I-”

“Hey assholes!” The front door slams, startling them together in a hard knock of skulls before they jerk apart, blushing furiously and looking anywhere but each other as they rub their foreheads. Matt's heavy footsteps come stomping across the living room and he shoulders the patio door open. “Way to ignore your phones, I've been texting you about takeout for like fifteen minutes...” He trails off at the sight of two violently red faces while Keith sends him the most murderous look he's ever seen.

“Not fucking hungry Matt.” Keith growls, hauling himself out of the chair and slamming his shoulder into Matt's as he stalks into the apartment. Matt does a double take after him, rubbing his shoulder before he turns to Shiro's stricken expression. “What's eating him?”

Shiro opens his mouth and shuts it again, shaking his head with a choked off sigh. Matt arches an eyebrow at him as Shiro drags a hand down his face, rooting into his forelock and yanking with a scream muffled into his prosthetic.

“Isn't it a little early for a mental breakdown?” Matt's tone is teasing, but Shiro can't help the growl that tears its way from his throat as he musters his most baleful look and shoves past the bane of his existence. Matt just stares at him open mouthed, he hasn't even been home for three full minutes and somehow he's already managed to piss off both his roommates by asking about dinner... Heaving a sigh, he shrugs and pulls up the delivery app. At least he doesn't have to compromise on food choices if they've both lost their minds.

 

Shiro pads down the hallway to Keith's room, resting his throbbing forehead against the door as he listens to the muffled screaming from within. He'd like to think that Keith's fury is entirely directed at Matt for interrupting their moment – but chances are Keith didn't even know it was a moment. He's always been tactile with Shiro, accepting an arm on his shoulder and resting a hand on Shiro's knee as they sit together... it's never meant anything before, just Keith's reassurance of friendship that Shiro twists into something that he's shamefully jerked off to before rolling over and resisting the urge to die. What kind of guy lusts after his best friend – and one who's getting married? The hand splayed over the door clenches into a fist where it's pressed against the wood. Keith doesn't deserve to have to deal with this when he literally just said he was happy marrying Matt... doesn't deserve to have to figure out how to plan a wedding while worrying about letting his best friend down gently without losing him. As if Shiro would ever leave, even if Keith did turn down his heart.

The screaming stops, replaced by quiet panting and a rustle as Keith moves around inside his room. A dull thud sounding from the far wall followed by a vicious curse have Shiro's brow furrowing as he hesitates, uncertain whether to knock. Keith makes the decision for him when the door wrenches open underneath his head and he lurches forward, only to be barreled into by a small but solid mass.

“Shit!” Keith yelps as Shiro scrambles back against the far wall of the hallway. “Goddammit, why the fuck would you stand there?” His hackles are clearly up as he throws Shiro a look and clutches his fist to his chest, shoving around him into the kitchen. Shiro stares dumbly after him, watching the tension coiling in his shoulders as Keith stomps down the hallways and yanks the freezer door open, fishing around for an ice pack. He lets loose a hiss when it makes contact with his rapidly bruising knuckles, and Shiro has his own sinking realization about the origins of the thud.

“Keith.. your hand...”

He makes to step forward, hand outstretched, but Keith lurches back, cradling it to his chest as he scurries back into his room.

“It's fine.” The uninjured hand darts out to grab the door handle, ready to slam it in Shiro's face when he pauses, expression softening a fraction at Shiro's obvious distress. “Really, Shiro... it's all fine... Goodnight.”

The door closes with a soft click that feels a lot like a different door closing on Shiro's life. He's almost bitter that it didn't even echo ominously in keeping with the moment. In one ear he can hear the creak of the bed through the door as Keith settles on it, and Matt chatting with the owner of the Thai restaurant down the road in the other. One last longing look at the door is all he allows himself before padding back out onto the porch and settling down across from a surprised Matt. Though the smile on his face can't be more than wobbly, Matt still pats his knee and adds Shiro's usual to the order.

At least he still has that... and he realizes it's not something he would be willing to risk, even if there was that elusive spark that he swears he felt with Keith. Their marriage may be a big joke to them, but if Shiro can guarantee the happiness of his two best friends for even one second it will be worth it. Really, there's only one thing he can do at this point to keep them in his life as they are.

He's going to plan the best wedding any of them have ever seen.

 

Keith can't say he's enjoying the rotation of pillow screaming, hand icing, and texting Matt all the ways he'd like to dismember him, but at least it breaks up the monotony of the brooding he has queued up for the rest of the day. He feels like he needs to rip off all his skin just to breathe. Shiro had been so close earlier on the porch that Keith had felt the heat of his breath, the catch of five o'clock shadow against his jaw - he swears their lips might have even grazed for a millisecond as Shiro had leaned in and whispered his name. It had sounded like something holy on lips, reverent in a way that he'd never heard... the next closest thing to compare it to would be Matt mid orgasm with Keith's name choked out on a whine, and even so there had never been that note of longing...

If he hadn't imagined it all at least.

And he doesn't think he did this time, for once. There had been something there in the way their noses brushed, something in the way Shiro's breath caught over the stuttered words, I... I _what._

He growls, digging his fists into his eyes until he sees stars, ignoring the throb in his knuckles where he'd punched the wall in frustration. Admittedly, that hadn't been one of his best ideas, but it certainly felt fantastic for the half a second before the pain registered and his knuckles started to swell... better than punching Matt right in his stupid oblivious interrupting face anyway. Flopping back onto the bed, Keith grabs his phone again, pulling up the solid wall of expletives he'd sent to Matt earlier with a sheepish cringe. It really hadn't been his fault, he had no reason to think that his usual obnoxiously dramatic entrance would be ruining the single best moment of Keith's life, and his own string of crying emoji's in return and the promise of Thai food had Keith considering leaving his hovel of despair... but that would also mean facing Shiro, and he's not sure he can look him in the eye after nearly spilling his own guts over what might have been nothing.

_Or might have been something_.

Growling at his own stupid wishful thinking, he curls back into a ball with the ice pack tucked against the knuckles he has buried in his chest. It's probably better to casually starve to death in his room than face humiliation after his tantrum anyway... storming out, punching a wall, and nearly slamming a door in the face of someone who is clearly concerned and trying to help is never a good look – especially when that person just faced the same mortifying interruption and subsequent head smashing and might actually want to clarify what the hell just happened.

But No.

Of course he'd rather just lash out like a fucking child. Like always.

The idea that Shiro was even about to say.... _that_ is a sad joke. He's already got Matt willing to be his safety blanket because he's too pathetic to get over a decade's long crush, but here he is curled up in bed throwing a tantrum over something that isn't his - never has been and never will be.

He shoves the pillow over his head again, preparing to scream out some of the boiling angst to head off the spiral he can feel coming, when a soft knock at the door steals the air from his lungs and leaves him frozen.

The knock sounds again.

“Kitten?”

Keith wants to sob in relief at Matt's voice, knowing that no matter how much of a shit show he turns into Matt will always be ride or die right there with him.

“It's open.” He croaks into the pillow, rolling his head enough to peek an eye out. Matt pokes his head in first, letting out a concerned hum as he takes in the fetal position and ice pack on the bed. There's a container and a fork in his hand and the smell is mouthwatering as it wafts into Keith's den of misery. He guides the door shut behind him with his heel and plops down on the edge of the bed. Keith wastes no time in curling around him. “I'm sorry I was mad at you.”

Matt reaches back with his free hand to stroke through tangled dark locks, smoothing his thumb across Keith's furrowed brow as he goes. “It's okay buddy, I kinda gathered that I interrupted something judging by how flustered Shiro was.” Keith shakes his head into Matt's leg, groping blindly for the fork as he sighs.

“I just thought that maybe... I don't know.” He sighs again, hauling himself upright and tucking under Matt's arm to eat the offered dish. “It seemed like something.” The first bite goes down hard, flavor deadened by his melancholy and it sours his mood even further that he can't even enjoy his favorite meal. “I got my stupid hopes up, it's not a big deal.”

Matt's mouth twists as he watches Keith poke around at the noodles, stabbing the chicken a little harder than is strictly called for. “I know you don't think so-” Keith snorts through his mouthful, but Matt merely tightens his arm around him and carries on. “-but I think Shiro thought it was something too.”

Keith's shoulders tense like he wants to argue, but he doesn't have any fight left in him today.

“Matt...” He sets the food down on the end table and turns to wrap his arms around Matt's midsection. “You know I love you...” Matt quirks an eyebrow at him and Keith rolls his eyes. “-no romo.” Matt nods and twirls his wrist before tucking his head between Keith's jaw and shoulder, ear cocked and waiting. “But you've been saying this shit about Shiro for like ten years, and I just... I can't keep getting my hopes up like this. It hurts.”

Matt turns his face fully into Keith's shoulder for the sole purpose of smothering the impotent rage at these two fucking idiots that he knows is broadcast all over his face. It's like they exist to hurt each other on loop by holding a never ending 'who can be the biggest moron' contest as they whip platonic 'bro's at each other like so many rocks. He wants to shake Keith until his teeth rattle, wants to tape him to a chair and force him to watch a slideshow of Shiro's every sappy disgusting face when he's in the room. He wants one fucking ounce of what they are aggressively denying to stroll into his life.

Instead he nods into Keith's shoulder, schooling his face into something properly contrite as he pulls back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay Kitten, no more meddling.”

_Out loud._

Keith sighs, slumping in relief.

“Thanks Matt.” He tries to crack a wobbly grin in Matt's direction, and if he misses the mark by a mile or two Matt is kind enough not to comment. “Besides, it's kind of awkward to plan a wedding while your groom tries his very best to cuckold himself...”

Matt sputters an indignant laugh and punches him on the arm, reaching over to steal a piece of chicken as Keith swats at his hand.

“That's not my kink, Kitten.” He chews open mouthed, intentionally obnoxious just to get a laugh as Keith tries to push him off the bed. “I'm just selfless enough to know an ass so fine it should be shared with the world when I see it.”

“You're an idiot.”

Keith attempts a deadpan, but the grin at the corner of his mouth peeks through and Matt considers this foray into the swamp of sadness a success. He may have to tone down his efforts, but if there's one thing a Holt is good at, it's subtlety.

 

It gets easier after that, the whole being in love with one best friend while marrying the other thing. Without the constant nagging about hope and a rosy future Keith can just... be. Like he has for the last decade since he first watched Shiro fall out of a tree and break his wrist just to get a little girl's frisbee. It had been ugly, not quite a compound fracture, but he hadn't even whimpered when she threw her tiny arms around his neck and high-fived the splintered bone. Keith had driven him to the hospital with a side-eye and one question, 'Was it worth it?' Shiro had given him a wry grin from the passenger's seat where he cradled his arm to his chest and asked one in return. 'Did you see her smile?' ...and Keith was lost to the biggest selfless idiot he's ever met.

But he's had so long to practice being casually in love with him that it comes like breathing now. Wake up, share a jog and coffee, head to work, text all day, share dinner, tease Matt, go to bed... rinse and repeat. He wouldn't change this easy proximity for the world, and all this fairy tale garbage everyone else keeps trying to shove down his throat is doing nothing but fucking with their perfect equilibrium. He's fought tooth and nail for this binary star dynamic they have going on now, both living their lives but somehow always in each other's orbits no matter where life flings them - and he's not about to let some romantic bullshit ruin everything. Besides, if he was someone who really believed in love he wouldn't be marrying his favorite irritating human on a ten year pinky swear made minutes before the most prolonged vomiting episode he's ever witnessed.

The less they make this whole marrying deal A Thing with a Shiro shaped escape hatch, the better Keith feels about it. Soon he and Matt are casually discussing catering options over the mac and cheese that Shiro had slaved over, as the chef himself chimes in with input.

“Absolutely not.” He waves his spoon menacingly, flicking cheese sauce onto the table with the force of it. “You can't just... get Chinese food catered to your wedding.” The scandalized look on his face is worth the cheesy mess though, and Keith can't help the bark of laughter that bubbles from his chest as Shiro continues to clutch his metaphorical pearls. “Hunk is _literally_ the world's best cook, and you would just...” He sputters, scowling between the two of them as the spoon flails. “It would be like walking up to him at the wedding and taking a shit on his plate. Is that something you want to do to Hunk?”

“Oh my god, Shiro!” Matt's poker face finally cracks as he slaps the table, howling at Shiro's offense on Hunk's behalf. He had only suggested their usual take-out to see if Keith would go along with it, not expecting the full tirade from their unofficial wedding planner. He wipes at his eyes to catch sight of Shiro's still scowling face and dissolves into more giggles, dragging Keith with him as Shiro throws his hands up in the air, spattering the ceiling in cheese. “Your fucking face!”

Shiro huffs at them, shoving another bite in his mouth and crossing his arms. Keith finally catches his breath enough to pat him on the elbow consolingly.

“It's okay Shiro, we'll have mac and cheese there too, a whole bunch of boxes of that stuff you can microwave.”

A wounded sound crawls out of Shiro's throat as he buries his face in his hands and prays that they won't actually give their entire guest list food poisoning just to be stubborn. It's bad enough that neither one of them seem to care at all about any aspect of the wedding, but to actively sabotage it in the name of convenience? It's too much for one man to handle. Pulling out his phone from his pocket, he fixes them a stern look, one that screams 'you did this to yourselves' and drums his fingers on the table as he waits for it to ring.

“Hey Shiro, what's up?”

Hunk's unfailingly cheerful voice floats through the receiver, causing Keith and Matt to freeze, staring at each other in panic. Shiro throws them a bright smile, standing up and holding the phone above his head on speaker as they scramble around the table in an attempt to stop him.

“Hey Hunk, I just wanted to get your opinion on something food related here really quick, you got a minute?”

There's a moment's pause on Hunk's end. “This isn't you asking if something is still safe to eat after a week like last time is it?”

Shiro sputters at the screen, indignant even as he stiff arms Matt's face and ignores Keith's attempts to hop as quietly as possible.

“That was one time! And it had been in the fridge the whole time!”

“Shiro...” Hunk's voice is pained and they can practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “No.... just.... no. Don't eat whatever it is.”

Shiro grumbles up at the phone held aloft as he lets go of Matt's face to push out the back of his knees, sending him sprawling as he collars Keith with his elbow.

“That's not even why I called... Keith and Matt were talking about ordering Chinese take-out for the reception.”

There's a moment of deadly silence on the other side of the line and Keith goes limp in Shiro's hold. Matt starfishes on the ground in defeat.

“They what.”

Shiro hums cheerfully and lets Keith go, watching him flop down next to Matt and cover his face with his hands. “They didn't want to bother you I guess, so they were going to order in and buy a ton of microwaveable mac and cheese tubs.” Matt lets out a strangled whimper that Keith echoes as they hear the clatter from the phone.

“THEY WHAT.”

“I know buddy, I was betrayed too.”

“They know I'm a chef, right? They know I cook? Do they know that? Ask them if they knew that.”

Shiro smirks down at the pile of limbs by his feet, nudging Keith in the ribs with his toe.

“Hey guys, did you know-”

“Shove it Shirogane.” Matt grumbles, throwing an arm over his face as he rolls over. “I was trying to be nice.”

Hunk picks him up on speaker and huffs a derisive breath.

“Nice would be not forcing me to pretend to be your friend after that... I'm insulted you didn't come to me first.”

Shiro's face is insufferable as he nods at the phone.

“I know Hunk, I told them that too.”

“Well Shiro.” Hunk's voice is sickeningly sweet and Keith buries his face in the linoleum, hiding from the shame radiating from the receiver. “Tell them they better draft up a menu for me with at least two months to spare so I can veto all their bad decisions.”

“Will do Hunk, thanks!”

A grumble is all the answer he gets as Hunk hangs up the phone, leaving Shiro to be the world's smuggest human as his best friends lie in a puddle of their shame.

“So!” Shiro begins, clapping his hands together and fluttering his eyelashes. “Hunk says-”

“I hate you.” Matt groans as Shiro snickers at him, settling back down at the table and resting his feet on Keith's back. He twirls the cheesy spoon in the air thoughtfully.

“So... what about the flowers?”

The thud of a head banging on the floor echoes through the kitchen.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“So I was thinking...”

The shifty look on Matt's face borders on sly as they sit elbow to elbow playing video games, and it makes Keith brace himself for the inevitable stupidity. Hopefully whatever bullshit Matt's cooked up this time will distract him enough for Keith to ram him right off the map so he can finally win. He risks a smirk thrown in Matt's direction as he mashes buttons frantically.

“That's never a good thing.”

Matt rolls his eyes, gaze never leaving the screen as his tongue pokes through his teeth in concentration. He leans into Keith's space and jabs an elbow into his ribs, earning a yelp and a hard shove back to his own cushion in retaliation, but it was enough to send Keith's character careening off a ledge – but it's worth the grumbling and flag of victory it gets him as he throws his hands in the air, taking a bow to his adoring fans.

The adoring fan on the couch is less than amused.

“You know, eventually you'll have to play a game that you can't cheat in.” Keith's tone is just a touch petulant as he leans back on the couch, arms crossed and eyes rolling. “You can't elbow people online.”

Matt shrugs as him, setting the controller down and twisting to shove his feet under Keith's thighs.

“No, but I can DDOS them and blame it on server lag.”

Keith just blinks at him and shakes his head, refusing to even touch everything wrong about that statement. He shifts to get more comfortable on top of Matt's wiggling toes, setting his own controller on the table and shoving his feet in Matt's face.

“So, were you actually thinking about something or are you just a serial cheater?”

“Both.” Matt responds without hesitation, a smarmy grin on his face. “I had an idea about the whole honeymoon thing.”

Keith's brow furrows, he hadn't given it much thought, figuring they would just do their usual three amigos style vacation they do every year when they can get their time off to align. It hadn't even crossed his mind that they might be leaving Shiro out this year as a marriage thing. The unease must show on his face because Matt leans forward and pats his knee comfortingly.

“Not like that, Kitten.” Matt's smile is uncharacteristically soft. “I mean like, we don't need to have one.”

“Oh.” Keith doesn't follow it up with 'Thank fuck.' because that would be rude, but he thinks it emphatically. It's not that a week of just Matt in a tropical location would be terrible.... but a week of just Matt in a tropical location _might_ drive him utterly insane. “Okay.”

“Don't sound so heartbroken, buddy.” Matt snickers, apparently reading his mind. “I know we haven't set a date or anything, but I was thinking we could do it the week before you're supposed to go on that road trip with Shiro to that observatory.” Keith balks a little at the idea of immediately running off for a week with another guy after getting married, knowing he'll have to deal with the rumors and funny looks afterward, but Matt looks utterly nonplussed as he continues. “I know it's a pain in the ass for you to get time off, but you could use the wedding as an excuse – and Shiro would be on his term break then so he'd be off as well.”

It's a tempting proposition, and really it makes sense. Keith had been figuring he'd have to bribe Lance and Griffin to cover all his test flights that week to get the time off, probably getting stuck with all the paperwork as payment, but if it was his 'honeymoon'... with another man.

“I dunno Matt... what about you?”

Matt snorts and gives him an unimpressed look. “What about me?”

Keith shrugs, uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Matt alone for a week right after they get married – even if it is a joke wedding.

“What will you do that week?”

The wiggling eyebrows should have been a warning not to ask. “Well Kitten.” Matt stretches back lazily, running his hands down his torso in a move that's too ridiculous to be actually seductive. “I'm going to put every weird sex toy I can find on our wedding registry and then review them for you when you get back.”

Keith groans and runs his hands down his face, clamping his legs on either side of Matt's knees to close them back up from where he's spread them. “Please tell me you didn't actually make us a wedding registry and fill it with sex toys.”

The look on Matt's face is suspiciously angelic.

“I didn't make us a wedding registry and fill it with sex toys.”

Yet.

Keith narrows his eyes, unsure what part of that sentence is going to come back to haunt him as a loophole, but sure part of it will.

“My mom is going to see that.” He pauses, eyes widening in horror. “ _Your_ mom is going to see that!” He lurches forward and grabs Matt by the shirt. “Matt, your mom! Colleen Literal Angel Holt is going to see your filthy sex toy registry and know we used them!” Matt is full on cackling underneath him now as Keith yanks on his shirt desperately. “Stop laughing! Your mom is going to know we fuck!”

Matt bats his hands away, shoving Keith back with his foot as he snickers. “Hate to break it to you Kitten, my mom knows we fuck already.”

“ _What?_ ” Keith blanches, hands flying to his own chest in despair. “How does she know?! How long has she known?” He gasps, eyes flying to Matt as he slaps a hand to his face. “She kissed me on the cheek last week! Does she regret it now?”

Matt howls on his end of the couch, feet kicking in glee as he clutches his stomach. Everyone else might be fooled by his mom's sweet exterior, but he and Pidge know a stone cold tactician when they see one. Colleen Holt couldn't give one single shit about her children's love life as long as they're safe, sane, and consensual. In an effort to be supportive she had gifted Pidge an assortment of alien dildos over their their usual Sunday brunch because she 'didn't know which one Pidge would like' so she got them all. One of them had been monstrously large with scales and a bulbous knot on the bottom, and their dad had looked ready to faint into his eggs as she waved it around explaining how the knot was inflatable. Matt had used it as blackmail for weeks until Pidge had glued one to his monitor the next time she came over with a note threatening to tell their mother Matt was looking for specialty cock sheathes. If anyone out there was going to be excited to buy wedding registry sex toys it would be Colleen Holt...

“Buddy, I had to convince her not to send you a fruit basket when we started fucking. She thought I was going to die without ever having experienced 'the joys of intercourse'... you're practically her favorite person next to Shiro.”

Keith heaves a sigh of relief, collapsing back onto the edge of the couch and throwing an arm across his face. “Oh thank god. I think I'd have to call the whole thing off if she didn't approve.”

Matt snorts in disbelief. He had been very clear when telling his family about the wedding that it was a long running joke and it didn't mean anything, but the gleam in his mother's eye when she asked Keith's shirt size definitely meant he would be getting a hand stitched Holt sweater in the mail soon. Thankfully she hadn't asked about anyone changing their names, probably worried Krolia would challenge her to a duel if she tried. Speaking of...

“Hey, did you tell your mom yet?”

Keith tenses, nose wrinkling as he thinks about his mother's deadpan over their last video chat. “Yeah, she ah...” He gives Matt a weak grin and a shrug. His mom had raised one eyebrow at him and asked 'Aren't you marrying the wrong roommate?' but there's no way he's going to give Matt that kind of ammunition. “She thinks we're both ridiculous, but she'll be there.”

Matt nods with a silly kind of smile - that's a pretty fair assessment of the current state of affairs. He's just happy she hasn't bothered to give him the shovel talk about hurting Keith, probably fully aware that Keith's heart isn't his to hurt anyway... but that's beside the point. “She's not wrong, especially when I'm trying to foist my new husband off on an adventure with someone else.” Keith huffs a laugh and throws and exasperated look his way, but Matt can tell he's starting to cave as he pushes his advantage. “Seriously though Kitten, I'll be fine and I think it would do you both some good to smooth over any bumps that come up.”

There's only a moment of hesitation that plays out across Keith's face before he nods slowly. It hadn't really occurred to him that he might need to reaffirm their friendship after making Shiro the ultimate third wheel, but it really does make sense to try to head off any hurt feelings... and if that means jamming their wedding into the spot right before their road trip then so be it. There's only one problem with this whole thing.

“You know that only gives us like... maybe five months right?”

Matt grins at him and shrugs.

“We've planned dumber shit with less time... remember that charity mud wrestling event that we threw together in two weeks?”

Keith rolls his eyes, as if he could forget grappling with a slippery Shiro in a kiddie pool full of mud, both of them in only a speedo. It had raised more money for charity than any other campus fundraiser before or since.

“That was only such a success because you made the fliers a literal centerfold with the date written across his crotch.”

Matt scoffs and snaps a pair of finger guns across the couch.

“Exactly, I know the best way to get shit done.”

“Whatever.” Untangling Matt's legs from his own, Keith hauls himself off the couch and wanders into the kitchen, staring blankly into the cupboards for something he doesn't have to make. “You've gotta convince Shiro though.”

Matt twists around and hooks his arms over the edge of the couch with a smirk.

“Somehow I don't think telling him we're not going on a honeymoon is going to be a problem.”

Keith throws him a sharp look over his shoulder but ignores the bait, rustling around and grabbing a tube of crackers before planting himself on the counter and kicking his feet against the cabinets. They're nearly stale and the tacky feeling against his tongue is enough to make him pull a face as he munches on them resignedly. They really need to go grocery shopping.

“Where would we even have this thing anyway, like a cheap auditorium or whatever?” He hums thoughtfully as he chokes down the mushy yet somehow still dry crackers, spraying crumbs as he talks. Matt is almost as horrified by the half chewed food as he is by Keith's suggestion. “Maybe just ask Iverson if we could do it at work for free?”

“Keith!” Matt's scandalized expression has Keith sputtering more cracker chunks onto the floor of the kitchen, coughing around them as Matt stomps over to his laptop to pull up proper venue options. “We are not having our joke wedding at work! This is supposed to be fun!”

Still coughing, Keith hops off the counter, grimacing as a half chewed piece of cracker sticks to the bottom of his foot. He flails it off and grabs a glass of water to dislodge the sorry excuse for food from his windpipe before wandering over to peer at Matt's screen. The short list Matt pulls up are ridiculously expensive, shooting Keith's eyebrows straight to his hairline as Matt scrolls.

“Dude, how do you think we're going to pay for this?”

Matt wiggles his eyebrows and pulls up another tab – a trust fund with a silly amount of zeroes on the end and a contractual stipulation at the bottom. Keith squints at the fine print, jaw dropping further as he reads. He hits the bottom and turns to Matt, incredulous.

“Dude, that's a dick move.”

“Isn't it?” Matt grins at him, slightly feral. Grandpa Holt had left both he and Katie a ridiculous amount of money with the stipulation that they settle down with 'nice young men and women' and use a portion of the funds for the nuptials to be performed by an ordained minister, and the rest to enjoy life with their spouse. What he hadn't stipulated was who married the nice young man, or what church ordained the minister... and Coran happened to be ordained by some online Altean Ministries thing as a joke. It was meant to be. “Which is why we're gonna blow as much of this as we can on a giant middle finger... and also we totally need new laptops.” He earns a funny look at that one and blinks innocently back. “You know, for the... music.”

Keith exhales a laugh through his nose, head shaking as he swipes back to the other tab.

“Alright then.” He leans down and knocks on the floor. “Thanks, ya dead old coot.”

Matt snickers at him and scrolls through various places he'd bookmarked, feigning interest in a few as they got closer to the bottom. Keith had been amenable to most of them, not really caring where it was so long as he could escape from the crowd outside at some point. They didn't really have to worry about rain even if they wanted a completely outdoor wedding either, maybe just set up a tent for the electronics on the off chance it sprinkled and call it a day.

“What about this place? It has a pond and one of those super fancy chandeliers in the reception hall.”

“Eeeh.” Keith squints at the grainy pictures of the pond on the website, envisioning his Mom's face when Kosmo inevitably dives straight into it in the middle of the wedding. “Maybe not so much with the pond.”

Matt hums in agreement and drags it over to their 'no' pile before scrolling to the next one, eyeing Keith carefully.

“This one is my favorite. We could set up a little arch near the cliff's edge, have a giant tent with those fairy lights for the reception set back a little way, nice and open air, and it's not to far from here either...”

Keith sucks in a breath and goes still. It's the same outcropping that he and Shiro used to spend their evenings at after long drives into the desert, just the two of them watching the sunset and chatting. There's no way Matt could have known that though, so he tries not to let it bleed onto his face as he imagines it, aiming for a joking tone as he turns to Matt.

“With our luck someone would get drunk and fall over the cliff.”

Matt sees the deflection coming a mile away and smiles easily at him.

“Nah, we could rope them off and have safety nets installed as a backup... but I don't think anyone we would want to invite is that stupid anyway.”

“I mean... it's beautiful...” The 'but' is on the tip of Keith's tongue when he turns to catch Matt's hopeful face. It's almost funny, he'd always imagined Matt to be the kind of guy who would want a wedding as far inside as possible, something clean and efficient with green accents and robot butlers... maybe an arcade tucked in there somewhere. Not this – the epitome of every fantasy that Keith has ever secretly harbored, dragged screaming into daylight. But if it's what Matt has his heart set on, Keith can definitely endure it. “I love it.”

Matt beams at him, knocking his head against Keith's shoulder as he fills out the form to order an obnoxiously large tent. “I knew you would.” His fingers fly over the keyboard as he closes several other tabs before Keith can see them. “So what do you think about a giant gaudy chandelier in the middle of the desert?”

Keith groans good-naturedly and throws Matt a look.

“If you think you're not going to kill someone when the wind whips up the canyon and blows it over...”

Matt's grin goes devious as he nods in acquiescence.

“Fair enough... how about you just leave the rest of the decorating to me and you figure out the menu for Hunk?”

Keith feels like he's going to regret agreeing to this later, but food is about the one thing that can't make his mind wander to places it shouldn't go.

“Deal.”

He's knows he's right as soon as the word leaves his mouth and Matt's glasses glint ominously above a smirk.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“So.” Lance eyes him speculatively across the counter, munching on an apple as Keith does his very best to ignore his existence. “Since Shiro's lame, do I get to plan your bachelor party?”

He can't stop the twitch in his eyebrow or the way the pen creaks as he writes down catering ideas for Hunk. He and lance have had this discussion at least a dozen times over the last few weeks, there's no point in having bachelor parties since he and Matt aren't going to be monogamous. What's the point of one last hurrah if neither one of them are going to be breathing down the other one's neck? Besides, he really doesn't care too much for strippers or the glitter that comes with them. Maybe if he pretends that he's super into exactly what kind of breadcrumbs would be best on top of the mac and cheese Lance will get the hint and let it go.

“Not that he's not like, a good best man...” Lance plows on, heedless of the twitch in Keith's left eye and laser-focus on the laptop. “Although I never expected him to be _your_ best man...” The twitch is practically a flutter now, like there's an angry moth trapped inside Keith's eyelid ready to burst out and attack Lance at any moment. Maybe this is how the whole Mothman thing got started. Maybe they'll never know, because Lance is _still talking_. “But he'd probably take you to like... a cheese factory or the world's largest ball of string... something educational.”

“A cheese factory might be cool.” Keith mutters, crossing out 'brioche bun crumbles' from the topping choices – too decadent for a wedding in the desert. Maybe a topping actually wouldn't be a good idea, it might be hard to distinguish from the sand if the wind kicks up and sprays into the tent... but the food will be covered anyway and – it's suspiciously quiet. He flicks a look up to where the munching has ceased and Lance is staring at him open mouthed, chunks of half chewed apple just hanging out there on his tongue. “What?”

Lance's jaw clicks shut as he shakes his head incredulously. “'What' he says... like he's not an alien.” He chews the apple aggressively, glaring at Keith's unperturbed face. “You _would_ be happy to go to a stupid cheese factory if it was with Shiro...”

Keith rolls his eyes and goes back to the absurdly long list of food choices. “Shiro has good judgment, if he says a cheese factory is going to be fun I have no reason not to believe him.” He looks up to see Lance miming his words with his hand and a mocking look on his face.

“iF sHiRo sAyS A cHeSe fAcTorY...” His hand ceases it's squawking and slaps down on the table as Lance leans into Keith's space. “Do you even listen to yourself? I swear to god I could wring out his gym socks and you'd drink it cheerfully.”

Keith bristles, setting the pen down to swat Lance out of his face. “That's fucking gross and so are you.” Lance ducks back to avoid the hand but snorts derisively as he settles back into his chair with a shrug. Keith narrows his eyes at him and snatches the pen back up, scrolling aggressively through a website detailing the different ways to incorporate a cheese fountain into a reception. “You're just jealous that Shiro's my best man and not you.”

Lance sputters a out a laugh so hard apple chunks go flying all over the table. “Really?” He plops his stupid face with it's stupid shit eating grin into his stupid palm as he raises an eyebrow at Keith. “I'm pretty sure it's not me who has a problem with who your best man is.”

“Lance.” Keith growls out in warning, slapping the pen back down onto the table. “Shut your fucking mouth, right now.”

Lance jerks back sharply, hands raised in submission as he takes in Keith's patented 'not fucking around' expression - apparently he's hit a nerve. Keith's snarl eases and the tension leaves his shoulders as he takes in Lance's mildly hurt face. He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his cheek as he turns away.

“Look, I just...” The words stick in his throat and he turns back to give Lance a pleading look. “This is what I can have, okay?”

It's not pity that spills across Lance's face, but it's uncomfortably close as he reaches out to rub a hand across Keith's shoulder. “Hey man, I know... I'm sorry.” He scoots his chair over to share the screen and takes the pen off the pad, shooting Keith a small smile. “How about we see what we can get Hunk to cook us?”

Keith can't help but crack a grin, thankful for the out as he scrolls back down through the website.

“So all this talk of cheese has me thinking...”

Lance suppresses his knowing smirk and takes notes.

* * *

Shiro sits in the middle of Allura's living room, trying his very best to be less bitter than his lukewarm cup of coffee. She had insisted on spreading out all the various books she had collected on flowers for her own wedding planning in a circle on the floor around them, effectively trapping Shiro in purgatory.

“Ooh, what about these?” She picks up one of the smaller magazines, pointing to a picture of a cheerful blue blossom. It's pretty, but it wouldn't match the color scheme Keith and Matt had chosen... not that either of them even care enough to pick it out themselves. He gives a halfhearted shrug and pokes at another magazine by his knee in an effort to stall the inevitable. Allura furrows her brows at him and sighs, dropping the magazine back into the pile. “Well you haven't given me much to work with.” Her tone is tart and Shiro at least has the presence of mind to feel guilty – he could be doing this alone after all.

“M'sorry Allura...” He sighs and picks up his mug again, wincing at the taste. “The wedding is silver, red, and purple... I don't know much beyond that.”

Her mouth pulls to the side as she takes in his poor attempts to remain upbeat – the plastic smile, the dull eyes... it's not a pretty picture.

“Well.” She rubs her hands together and nudges his shoulder with a smile. “That's enough to start, why don't you let me take over this part then?”

The offer is tempting, he doesn't know a thing about flowers and knows that any effort he puts into this is going to be both painful and unnoticed... but he said that he would help plan the wedding.

“I dunno...” He picks up one of the books at his feet, and flips through aimlessly. “I'm the best man.”

She rolls her eyes and tugs it from his grasp. “That doesn't mean you're the best man for the job.” Flipping the pages open, she waves it in his face. “This is entirely aloe plants.” He doesn't even bother to look chagrined.

Giving up doesn't really feel like such a loss as he climbs to his feet, shuffling across the living room to sprawl belly down on the couch.

“I'll let the expert take over then, wake me if you need a stamp of approval.”

Allura beams at him and shoves most of the books under the coffee table as she flips rapidly through her chosen few. “How do you feel about gardenia for your boutonniere?” Shiro shrugs into the cushions, clearly only half listening and she shoots him a sharp grin, adding it to their final list. The afternoon stretches on like that as she digs through her pile, cross referencing and searching prices as she marks down the final decisions. It's hours later when she finally shakes Shiro awake by the shoulder.

“Here.” She sticks the paper in his face as he blinks up at her blearily. “That's the final options with prices and local florists.”

He gives her a grateful, if sleepy, smile and skims the list – a red rose for Keith's boutonniere, orange for Matt's. He wrinkles his brows, thinking of how it will clash with the rest of the color scheme, but he supposes Allura knows better than he would about this sort of thing, and it is one of Matt's favorite colors. Keith had flatly refused to hold a bouquet, punching Matt solidly on the arm when it had been brought up in the first place, so that's not a concern at least. The centerpieces for the tables had a few names scribbled next them - globe amaranth, red carnations, lily of the valley... he's got no clue what any of these are, or what they look like, but at this point he's happy to be done with it.

“Looks great Allura, thank you.”

He looks up from the page to catch her impish smile rearrange itself into something demure as she waves away his praise. Something tickles in the back of his mind as she looks down at him, and he nearly narrows his eyes at her before catching himself - he can't let his own hangups twist his view of everyone who helps out with the wedding. They're all just being good friends, like he should be. He tucks the list in his pocket for safekeeping and gratefully accepts when she offers him a drink.

* * *

It's nearly four in the afternoon when Hunk finally gets the playlist he asked Matt to send over in the morning. He and Pidge had been handed the keys to the DJ booth for the reception, since Lance would insist on Beyoncé and Keith would be forced to cover up a murder at his own wedding. Shiro had offered too, but he had looked like he was sucking on a lemon as the words came out of his mouth, and Hunk didn't know if he could deal with that much ABBA at any party, so really this was for the best. It doesn't take long to skim through it, mostly suggestions that Hunk vetoes immediately for the sake of everyone involved - even with the list on shuffle there would still be an unacceptably high risk of having a solid half hour of various line dances like this was a middle school prom or something equally gauche. It's exactly what he had expected from Matt... which is why he and Pidge had prepared their own backup list.

And if the list they made happened to have sappy romantic songs meant for slow dancing and heavy themes on the beauty of friendship blossoming into love, then who could really blame them? It's just the wedding feeling getting to them. He cheerfully swaps the list and sends it back to Matt with a picture of his own disappointed face, nearly closing the app when he notices the song for the first dance. It's not something he would have ever chosen for Matt and Keith, maybe for... well.

It's almost cruel to anyone with both eyes and ears, but if that's what they want...

* * *

“Pidge, I need your help.” Matt barges into her apartment unceremoniously, not batting an eyelash at his sister sitting cross-legged on the table eating cereal out of the box with her bare hands. To her credit she doesn't flinch either, just raises an eyebrow at him and shoves another handful of captain crunch into her mouth. Matt takes it as agreement and barrels on, seating himself on the counter opposite her and toeing his shoes onto the floor as he pulls his feet up. “I have to do invitations.” The eyebrow goes down as the other rises, both a question and a prompt as she continues to chew unperturbed. Matt can tell by her utterly bored expression that he needs to sweeten the deal or go away. He splays his fingers out to the sides with his best jazz hands as he wiggles his eyebrows. “ _Sneaky_ invitations.”

Her head cocks to the side as she sets the cereal box down. “I'm listening.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

The second Matt strolls into the apartment with a grin on his face Shiro knows that there will be Something Else to deal with today. He already had to listen to Keith's laments over not being able to choose what kind of cake to get while they were jogging, and then he had walked into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush as Keith was getting out of the shower all glistening and pink skinned... the day has already been rough on his self restraint.

So when Matthew Holt swaggers over and slaps an envelope onto the table he can't fight the urge to start his deep breathing exercises. By the time he's counted to eight twice he can hear Matt's foot tapping in front of him and steels himself before opening his eyes.

“Yes Matt?” His tone comes out impressively pleasant despite the knowledge that he has acquired at least two new wrinkles since this whole debacle started several months ago. “Can I help you?”

“No.” Matt just stands there. Smiling.

Shiro feels his face twitch and thinks of bunnies and sunshine and Keith's sleepy face in the mornings before their jog. He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, letting it out slowly. Matt is still there smiling when he opens his eyes again.

“Did you need something?”

The gremlin shakes his head, insufferable little smile still planted on his face as he places one finger on the envelope and slides it across the counter.

“I got you a present.”

Shiro tries not to tense up. Predators can smell weakness, and Matt's smile is too pleasant to be anything but a trap. He eyes the envelope like a bomb and picks it up between his forefinger and thumb, holding it up to the light with a squint.

Matt snorts and leans his hip on the counter. “It's not going to bite you.”

Shiro shoots him a glance, lips pulling up at the corners. “You've said that before...”

Matt rolls his eyes and reaches out to flick Shiro on the ear. “That was one time, and I apologized.” He sniffs, shooting him a sly look. “Besides, if I recall correctly, Keith kissed your finger better.”

Shiro blushes to his ears and scowls at Matt, ripping the envelope open, potential anthrax or mail bombs be damned. At this point it would be better than listening to Matt's teasing for the next month and a half before he's out of Extra Misery and back into normal misery.

The thing inside is not, in fact, a bomb.

He almost wishes it was.

The fancy silver gilded edging of the card pokes out of the torn envelope, teasing as it shines in the kitchen light. He flicks a glance up at Matt's face, that damned smile still cemented in place, watching Shiro like a carrion bird. His fingers definitely do not tremble when he tips the envelope into his palm, tapping a little harder than necessary to slide the card out.

It sits in his hand. Small. Irritating. Easily destroyed.

It reminds him of Matt.

The silver foil on the front is in gaudy cursive – 'Join Us' it demands, with its embossed edges and its stupid royal purple background. He flicks the card open and scans the inside, finding none of the horrible things he would expect from Matt, just a simple 'Celebrate with Matt, Keith, and Co.' along with the date, address, and the option to bring a plus one. It might as well be for a joint graduation party, and he's secretly thankful he doesn't have to read the word wedding with his own two eyes again.

He wants to hate it, but it's actually a really nice card, and Shiro is kind of mad that it's so tasteful that he can't summon any boiling resentment. He had half expected Matt to email everyone a meme with a note in comic sans at the bottom telling them where to go and to bring their own beer. At least he can rest easy in the knowledge that he's trying to do right by Keith, even if the card fills him with irrational spite.

“It looks good Matt.” He thumbs the edges of the card and raises his eyes to meet Matt's, smile genuine this time, if small. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks, Pidge helped a bit.” Matt shrugs, digging a pen from his pocket and handing it to Shiro, a teasing lilt to his smile now. “That one is yours, don't forget to RSVP on time.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and accepts the pen, checking the little 'attending' box and crossing out the plus one option. He's not about to bring someone to a wedding just to look less pathetic... besides, best man duties will have his attention most of the time anyway. Matt peers over his shoulder and grunts approvingly at it before snatching them both away and scurrying down the hall, leaving a bewildered Shiro in his wake.

Several thumps and some muttered cursing later, he trots back down the hall with a different envelope, thicker this time and ready to be mailed. Shiro narrows his eyes at the package as Matt holds it out to him.

“What are you up to, Holt?”

Matt's grin goes toothy as he wiggles the package at him and Shiro has to forcefully remind himself that he actually does love Matt, deep down.

Waaaaay down.

Somewhere in his shins lately.

He trades a flat look for the package and hopes this one is the mail bomb that will put him in a coma. Matt hops up on the counter next to him, kicking his feet and practically vibrating in excitement. Shiro just stares at him, unnerved by the uncharacteristic silence. Again, the predator notices and the grin widens by a few teeth.

Resigned to his fate, Shiro shakes the second envelope out onto the counter. He's unprepared for the flutter of paper as it spews its contents and has to dive half off his stool to catch the... plane tickets?

“What are these?” His tone is wooden as he stares at them, not comprehending the text.

“Well, Shiro.” Matt begins, like he's talking to a particularly slow child. “Those are tickets to go on a big flying machine! The first words are the city the machine starts in, then it goes _whoosh_ and the people whose names are on it show up in the other city, the bottom words.” He ends the explanation with wide eyes and an open mouth, and Shiro kind of wants to punch him in the face.

“Matt. Why do you have plane tickets for my grandmother?”

Fortunately for his face, Matt drops the stupid act and rests his chin in his palm, eyeing Shiro carefully. “I was thinking that everyone else was going to have family there... Hunk's parents, Lance's family, Allura and Coran... I wanted yours to be there too.”

Shiro feels the lump rising in his throat and feels his love for Matt bubble to somewhere above his knees. It's just like him to think of that sort of thing when Shiro had just resigned himself to being lonely for the day. He hadn't even seen his grandmother in years, unable to get proper time off for a flight out to Japan. The sudden inexplicable amount of dust in the air has his eyes watering as he stares between the tickets and Matt, sniffling from the onset of his terrible indoor allergies.

“Thanks Matt, I-” He chokes off with a gruff cough and holds one arm out. Matt takes the cue and slides off the counter, stepping into Shiro's space and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Shiro buries his face in the bony shoulder in front of him and wipes his nose on the cloth there, laughing wetly as Matt blows in his ear in retaliation. “Thank you.”

Matt gives him one final hard squeeze and steps back to ruffle his hair. “No problem, big guy.” He hold Shiro's gaze for a beat, an inscrutable look passing over his face before his usual grin is back in full force. “Besides, it's really just a fancy party right? Everyone should be happy.” He turns away with a wink and wanders down the hallway. “Better clear up those allergies though, you and Keith have your tux fitting today.”

Shiro jolts off his stool, nearly jabbing himself in the eyes mid wipe. “We have our what?” His own frantic tone echoes back at him from the hallway where Matt has disappeared. The lanky menace has the nerve to wave a flippant hand from his doorway before shutting it with a thud and Shiro groans, planting his forehead on the counter. He hasn't had enough coffee yet today to deal with this emotional roller coaster – he needs to call his grandmother and tell her the good news, needs to cry a little more about how great his friends are, needs to go back to bed before Matt can make him witness Keith trying on formal wear... but he's the best man, and he has a job to do.

Grunting, he hauls himself off the stool toward Keith's room, making sure to knock loudly this time so he doesn't get his second eyeful of the day. “Keith?” He hears a muffled grunt from the other side of the door and knocks again for good measure. “Hey buddy, grunt twice if I can come in.”

An unintelligible grumble comes through the door, followed by another sort of gurgle, and that's good enough for Shiro to nudge the door open. He keeps his eyes averted as he steps into the room, but can't avoid catching sight of Keith's body sprawled face down on the bed with a towel draped across his ass. His arms are pillowed under his head, shoulders flexed and showing off the lean muscles down his back. The towel itself is pulled low enough that Shiro can see the dimples on either side of his spine and he has the sudden desperate urge to dip his tongue into them. It would be so easy from there to tug the towel down in his teeth before sinking them into the plush apple of the cheek that's taunting him, peeking out from the bottom of the terrycloth. His mouth runs dry at the thought and his fist clenches as Keith grumbles again, shifting his thighs open just enough to cast the space between them in hazy, tantalizing shadow.

Enough to show off a deep purple love bite on the inside juncture of Keith's thigh, right underneath his ass cheek. Shiro would pay good money to gently remove Matt's teeth with a pair of pliers, purely for the sake of scientific comparison, before proceeding to cover every inch of that creamy skin in his own marks. Keith twists enough to crack an eye at Shiro's violently red face before stretching languidly as he rolls over, and the weight of his glance is enough to rip Shiro out of the inappropriately possessive train of thought. Blessedly, Keith has the presence of mind to hold a fistful of the towel over his crotch as he shifts onto his back, propping up on one elbow and rubbing his eyes with a fist.

“Hey Shiro-” He immediately yawns, jaw nearly cracking with the effort as his back arches, a shudder rolling through it. “What's up?”

“Uh.” Shiro replies eloquently, unable to tear his eyes away from the trail of dark hair leading down from Keith's navel into where the towel settles over his lap. “You showered.”

Keith quirks an eyebrow at him, cheeks blossoming pink as Shiro's gaze remains fixed on his abdomen. “Yeah, remember that whole you startling the shit out of me so badly I almost slipped and died on the shower curtain?” Shiro's laser focus breaks sheepishly as his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, head ducking as he shrugs. Keith snorts and rolls his eyes, gesturing to the towel. “That was me showering.”

“Ah.” Shiro swallows hard, eyes now frantically looking anywhere but Keith as they continue the most awkward conversation of his life. “You didn't want coffee?”

Keith's smile is full of mischief as he throw Shiro a sly look. It's a devastating combination.

“Nah, I needed a little relaxation after the run.” His smirk quirks up further as those dark eyes flick to the night stand covered in crumpled tissues and a bottle of lube. Shiro promptly loses all higher brain function as his mind floods with realities where he walked into the room just fifteen minutes earlier, and judging by the increasing number of molars revealed by Keith's smile it's all over his face. Shiro opens his mouth, hoping something intelligent will come out, but a wheezy squeak is all he manages, throwing Keith into a fit of crumpled snickering. “Oh my god Shiro, your face!”

Staggering backward and clutching at his chest is his only method of self preservation at this point as Shiro tries desperately to save face. “You!” He shakes a finger in Keith's direction as the boy in question sweeps the nightstand detritus into the garbage near the bed, still giggling as he wraps the towel firmly around his waist and stands up. “See if I make you coffee again!”

Keith snorts, throwing a grin over his shoulder as he pads to the closet, fishing out a pair of boxers and promptly dropping the towel as he slides them on. “You wouldn't do that to me.” Shiro is staring firmly at the wall two inches above his head as Keith turns around and grabs a crumpled pair of jeans off the floor. The stubborn set to his jaw is almost enough to distract from the fact that his ears are flaming.

“I will so, you don't even appreciate it.” Shiro risks focusing on Keith as he digs around for a shirt, studiously ignoring the teeth marks imprinted on the back of his neck – he and Matt need to have a chat about the dangers of the bacteria in human bites if he's going to be going around chewing on unsuspecting innocents. Keith flaps a hand behind him in dismissal as he grabs a plain black t-shirt, muscles rippling as it pulls over his head. He pops out looking like a disheveled cat, cheshire grin and all.

“No you won't, because-” He holds up a finger as Shiro rolls his eyes. “-because then you'll have to deal with me AND Matt without any caffeine, and getting us into the car will make you late.” Shiro opens his mouth to retort then pauses, considering before clicking his mouth shut.

“Coffee it is.”

He turns on his heel and scurries out of the room, leaving Keith to shout down the hallway in his wake. “Extra sugar please!”

The sass is audible in Keith's tone and Shiro doesn't bother to fight down his own smile as he grabs a travel mug and pours the coffee he'd been saving for Keith, with extra sugar of course – as if Keith wasn't sweet enough by himself. The man of the hour comes tumbling out of his room soon enough, a pair of beat up sneakers hanging from his fingers as he attempts to flatten his hair with the other. It's a lost cause of course, but it's cute that he's trying. Shiro eyes him up and down, taking in the spectacular lack of effort made cool, and raises a judgmental eyebrow.

“You're going to the tux fitting in that?”

Keith bristles, snatching the mug from Shiro's hand with a scowl. “Not everyone can look like Captain America all the time.” He takes a long sip and exhales, shoulders dropping from his ears as the coffee works its way into the places deep inside his heart. Just the taste makes him feel more charitable as he cracks an eye open to take in Shiro's neat jeans and sweater combo. “It's cute though, very wholesome.” He pats Shiro on the shoulder as he walks past, bending to pull on his ratty shoes as Shiro sputters and slips on his own dockers.

“I do not look like Captain America.” Shiro grumbles as he opens the door and ushers Keith through. “He's blonde.” Keith snorts ahead of him as he throws himself into the passenger's side of Shiro's car. “Besides, I have a metal arm, that means I get to be Bucky.”

Coffee spews all over the dashboard as Keith sputters out an incredulous laugh, turning to Shiro with wheezy breaths and watery eyes. _“You?_ As Bucky?” He gives him a meaningful once over and shakes his head. “Dude, you're already dressed for your 'Don't Do Drugs, Kids' video. You couldn't hurt a fly even with mind control.”

Shiro sniffs with a wounded air as he backs out of the garage. “I could be an assassin if I wanted to.”

“Shiro, you cry at the beginning of Up every time.”

Shiro gasps, betrayal washing over him as Keith deadpans at him across the car. He has never heard such a low blow in his life, Up should be used as the test to find out who the sociopaths in society are when they don't sniffle even a little. “She couldn't have babies! And then she was gone!” His voice comes out a little more strangled than he'd like, and Keith reaches over to poke at the pout cementing itself on his face.

“You change the channel every time that SPCA commercial comes on.”

“They're playing In the Arms of an Angel! What am I supposed to do, not cry?!”

Keith's poking stops as he giggles helplessly against the side of the car, eyeing Shiro's affronted expression fondly. “It's okay Shiro, Captain America would cry over that commercial too.” The affront smooths over into something slightly more mollified as Shiro nods firmly, eyes never leaving the road. Damn right Captain America would cry over that. He doesn't catch the smirk that Keith fights to repress as he pats Shiro's knee. “But the Winter Soldier is too tough for that, so that'll have to be me.”

Shiro spares him exactly one flat look before cranking the music loud enough to drown out Keith's howling laughter.

 

They're still bickering as they push through the doors to the boutique that Matt had booked the appointment at.

“I'm just saying, you have no parents and you're buff. Batman is the natural choice.” Keith emphasizes his point by wrapping one hand around Shiro's bicep and forcing a flex. “Look at that!”

Shiro removes the offending hand and plucks at the tight t-shirt hugging Keith's torso like a second skin. “If we're playing by that logic then you have to be Catwoman since you'd look great in a latex body suit.” Keith rolls his eyes and shoves Shiro, sending him stumbling toward a mannequin and an unimpressed saleslady. Under her steely gaze he clears his throat and plasters on his best charming grin. “Ah, hello.”

He can still hear Keith snickering behind him as she raises an eyebrow.

“Do you have an appointment?”

Shiro turns to give Keith a clueless shrug, seeing the same bewildered expression mirrored on his best friend. The saleslady is no more impressed when he turns back. “It might be under Holt?” The transformation of her face is like night and day as she brightens up and extends her hand to welcome them in.

“Ah, you must be Takashi and Keith then! Follow me right this way gentlemen.”

She strides away toward the back of the room where there are several plush chairs and a pitcher, leaving Shiro and Keith to stare at each other helplessly.

“I guess Matt told them we were coming?” Shiro guesses as he ushers Keith before him.

“Well, he did say you had an appointment for the fitting or we wouldn't be here.”

“Right.” Shiro scratches at the back of his neck, following Keith through the aisles of floofy dresses. “So, what kind of dress are you thinking of anyway?”

Keith throws a sharp look to go with the elbow that he digs in Shiro's ribs as they settle into the overly stuffed chairs.

“Asshole. It's just a normal tux.”

Shiro pouts at him and rubs his side, content to picture Keith in slinky silk privately. “Well that's boring.” He nods his head toward a colorful rack near the back, crushed velvet and sequins adorning the shoulder pads of the jackets there. “You didn't want to spring for one of those?”

“It would clash with my negligee when it comes off.” Keith drawls, and Shiro is abruptly sorry that he started this line of teasing. The thought of Keith in sheer lace and an unbuttoned jacket splayed open underneath him on the sheets kicks him right in the lizard brain, sending all the blood both to his cheeks and elsewhere in a dizzying rush. Keith's lips curl as he glances up through his lashes at Shiro's flushed cheeks. “But I guess I could always pick out new lace.”

“No!” Shiro squeaks, fumbling for the pitcher and chugging the water in a truly dignified manner. “I'm sure it's lovely how it is!”

Blessedly, the saleslady comes back in with two suits on hangers, one deep red and the other a purple so dark it's almost black.

“Here we are, gentlemen!” She foists them off into their arms and claps her hands. “There are two dressing rooms to your left. If you need any assistance don't hesitate to press the call button.” Then she's gone in a whirlwind, scurrying off somewhere into a sea of satin and ruffles, leaving Shiro and Keith to blink at each other once gain.

Shiro looks between his own armful of fabric and Keith's, furrowing his brow. “What color is Matt wearing?” If it's anything but silver he's going to clash horribly, though maybe a very dark green wouldn't be too bad... but the orange boutonniere...

Keith raises the fabric in his arms as he shakes his head. “No clue, maybe black? Nobody is really gonna care though.” Shiro cringes at the thought of the orange on black and once again questions Allura's flower choices, but if they don't care he's not going to bother worrying over it. He heaves a sigh and turns toward the dressing room.

“See you in a bit.” He pushes his door open and Keith grunts at his back, the other door clanging shut as he shoulders inside. The suit is nice, tailored into a slim fit in such a way that Shiro wonders if Matt was creepy enough to measure him in his sleep ahead of time. He pulls on the trousers and briefly wonders if he should have them taken out jut a touch – if he so much as bends down the seam feels like it's going to split clean open... but it survives a couple of test squats.

There's a hard knock against the other side of his dressing room wall and a muffled curse follows it.

“Okay there buddy?” Shiro calls over the divider as he slides on the suit jacket, nodding at the fit in the shoulders.

“Peachy.” Keith's grunt floats back, accompanied by rhythmic thumping.

Shiro furrows his brows, head cocked as a grin creeps over his face. “Are you... hopping?”

The thumping stops, dressing room quiet for a few beats before Keith's muttered voice comes back over the wall. “No.” Shiro doesn't bother to muffle his bark of laughter and Keith thumps the wall intentionally. “Shut up, I can't get these pants past my ass!”

The mental image of Keith stuck halfway in the pants, hopping and tugging as he curses only makes Shiro laugh harder. He looks down at his own absurdly tight pants and undoes the clasp at the top to look at the construction. “Did you unhook the tiny black button under the silver slippy thing? It's right above the zipper.”

There's a pause and some rustling before Shiro hears the zipper pull down. “Oh thank fuck.” Keith's voice grunts out. “I thought I was going to have to tell Matt my ass didn't fit in my pants and deal with that bullshit for the rest of my life.”

“Were you trying to pull them on like jeans or something?” Shiro's still grinning as he straightens his suit and walks out to wait for Keith, jazz hands at the ready. Keith grunts an affirmative noise and bumps around for another moment, thudding and rustling before throwing the door open with his own jazz hands. Shiro lets out a playful whistle and twirls his finger for him to spin. “Looking good there, Mr. Groom.”

He keeps his eyes firmly off where Keith's pants are also ridiculously tight as he turns, but it doesn't matter - Keith looks like he walked straight out of a photo shoot.

Keith tugs on his own lapels, eyebrows raised as he appraises Shiro in turn, stalking around him as Shiro instinctively straightens up and widens his stance. “You're look pretty good yourself there, Shirogane.” He takes a step back and eyes him head to toe, stopping at the clashing brown dockers. “But you might wanna change your shoes.”

Shiro gives a flat look to the beat up sneakers peeking out from under the hem of Keith's own trousers, ignoring the way they make his legs look eight miles long.

“At least I don't look like I'm jogging my way to the alter.”

The saleslady clears her throat behind them, popping up like some sort of creepy specter emerging from the ruffly mists, and she mumbles something about bad luck before smiling brightly at them both.

“So, how do you like the fit?”

Shiro turns to face her as he rolls his shoulders in the jacket, bringing them above his head experimentally and squatting down once. “It's great, I don't know how you got the measurements so accurate.”

Keith chokes loudly behind him, doubling over in a coughing fit as he grabs for the water. Shiro turns back to him in concern only to get a wheezy thumbs up as Keith wipes at his watering eyes. “Yeah.” He rasps, plastering on a smile for the woman. “Fits like a dream.”

Her eyes twinkle as she gives them another once over. “Wonderful! I'm sure you two will look lovely up there.”

Shiro's smile becomes a touch brittle as nods. “Thank you, I'm sure Matt will look great next to Keith as well with all your hard work.” Her head cocks to the side and her forehead wrinkles, reminding Shiro a bit of a bird as he elaborates. “You know... Mr. Holt?”

“Oh!” Her smile eases again as she nods. “Yes, he and the groomsmen who still need to get suits fitted should be back next week.” She takes a step forward and offers a handshake to each of them in turn. “In the meantime, feel free to leave the suits hanging in the dressing room, and don't hesitate to call with last minute changes, it's important to look your best on your special day!” Then she's spinning on her heel and vanishing into the satiny abyss again.

Keith looks around for a moment before popping his lips in the quiet. “Well.” He rocks back on his heels, hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers and Shiro can only imagine the way they're pulling across the back. “I guess we should get changed and get out of here?”

Shiro nods in agreement, slipping off his suit jacket and stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, and maybe not tell Matt about the last minute changes thing... you'll end up with that orange and green velvet after all.” He pops his neck and opens his eyes to catch Keith staring at the pull of the buttons across his chest, it makes him scratch the back of his head sheepishly as he offers an apologetic shrug “I ah- didn't want to make a big deal about the small shirt... I can always wear my own.”

Keith shakes his head, dragging his eyes up to Shiro's. “You're good.” He coughs into his fist and jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward the dressing room. “I'm gonna...” Then he shuffles backward into it, cheeks darkening as he goes.

Sighing, Shiro pushes open his own door and lets it click gently behind him, taking in the image staring back at him. Aside from the shoes he could almost picture himself up there in this, the red and the purple complementing each other amid a sea of silver and twinkling fairy lights... standing next to Keith... who is standing next to Matt. It's probably a good thing that they hadn't bothered to look in the big couples mirror on the far wall – he doesn't think his heart could take the sight of the two of them together, looking for all the world like a matched set. At this point he's in full on survival mode, coping with as much forced normalcy and obnoxious humor as possible. After all, if he's not weird it's not weird. Nothing is weird. Nothing to see here.

“Hey Keith?” He calls over the wall, leaning his head against the divider.

“Yeah?”

“You really did look great... Matt's going to faint.”

There's a pause and a gentle thump on the other side where his head is before Keith's voice comes through more quietly.

“Thanks Shiro.”

“Anytime buddy.” Shiro swallows down the lump in his throat and injects as much artificial cheer as possible. “So... do you wanna get out of these fancy clothes and cram as much messy grease into our faces as humanly possible?”

Keith's laugh floats through the barrier as the rustling starts again, louder this time. “Sure, I haven't been to Sal's in ages.” The sound of a belt whipping through the loops startles Shiro into peeling off his own clothes when Keith's door bangs open and his cheerful voice rings out. “Last one to the car has to buy!”

Then he hears the pattering of his footsteps and the chime of the door, still not even out of his own pants yet. He huffs a laugh and continues to leisurely fold his garments before tugging on his sweater and jeans. He doesn't mind losing, there's not a single reality where he wouldn't happily buy Keith every meal for the rest of his life.

* * *

It's hours later when they stumble into the apartment, covered in grease and full of shame and cheese. Shiro staggers immediately to his bedroom to collapse and sleep for eight years, ignoring the way Keith teases him for being an old man that falls into a dairy coma. He can't help it, some things are so good they need to be savored in dreams.

Keith shakes his head and watches him go, trailing down the hall to his own room where he finds Matt sprawled on his bed as he scrolls through a tablet. His glasses flash as he looks up with a smile, setting the tablet aside and scooting over to make room.

“Have fun today, Kitten?”

Keith nods, groaning as he stretches until his back pops. Matt snickers, patting the bed next to him, and Keith is never one to deny an invitation like that. He tugs his shirt over his head in one fluid motion and pops the button on his jeans, shimmying them off before collapsing into Matt's side. Long fingers wind themselves into his hair, scratching at the base of his neck and he lets out a pleased hum into the crook of Matt's jaw.

“You're so good to me, Matt.” Keith's lips brush against Matt's fluttering pulse with every word, stoking the embers of a fire he hadn't necessarily meant to ignite today, but Keith's nose is tracing the line of his jaw and Matt is a weak man.

“Mmm, Kitten. It's only because you mewl so pretty for me when you're all wound up.” He trails his other hand lower, stroking down Keith's back with his nails and relishing the way goosebumps trail in his wake. Flattening his palm to Keith's side, he digs his nails in a little harder, raising up red lines as he goes and drawing a gasp from the mouth on his throat. “Look at you...” Matt breathes, watching Keith's squirm and shift their boxer-clad hips together. “I haven't even done anything and you're so needy.”

A sharp nip at his earlobe draws a hiss from his own mouth as Keith's smug drawl breathes across his ear. “Careful Daddy, your kitten's got teeth.” He snaps them again next to Matt's ear, pulling a low groan from his throat as he rolls his hips up into the body above him.

Matt's hand slides to the back of Keith's head and tangles there while the other seats itself firmly on Keith's ass, thumb dipping into the elastic of his waistband and tracing the swell of his cheek. Keith narrows his eyes for a second before the fist in his hair tightens and tugs his head back, unable to stop the whimper that sears his tongue on the way out. He cracks an eye open to glare down at Matt, but the bastard just smirks up at him.

“You gonna be good for me, Kitten?”

Keith opens his mouth for a scathing retort, but Matt forces him down, crushing their lips together and sweeping his tongue across Keith's – forcing the petty rebellion to fade from his lips in favor of a moan breathed right into Matt's waiting lungs. Keith's hands scrabble for purchase against Matt's chest, one finding it on a nipple that gets twisted hard, while the other scratches uselessly against the blade of Matt's shoulder. Another twist draws a gasp from Matt's lips as he forces them apart, panting through his smirk.

“Easy there Kitten, don't make me get the leash.”

Keith's eyes flash but he lets go, soothing the nub with his thumb. Matt hums approvingly at him and slides his entire hand down the back of Keith's boxers, rubbing his fingers across Keith's hole and spreading his cheeks. His tone is conversational as he presses the tip of his finger down, catching the waiting rim again and again. “Since you're too full of Sal's to top properly, it's looks like I have to do all the work...” He sighs dramatically, like it isn't his favorite thing in the world to get Keith pliant and needy in his lap.

Keith rolls his eyes, thinking the same thing as he reaches down to slide their boxers off, letting out a groan of relief as they're finally free and rubbing skin to skin. He's been pent up all day trying to keep his cool around the hottest man he knows in formal wear, and it definitely shows in the way he's leaking a puddle into the crook of Matt's hip. The urge to roll forward into the dip for a little friction is overwhelming, and Matt lets out an incredulous laugh above him as he squeezes down and helps motion.

“Holy shit, someone's ready.”

Keith can't even spare the attention to be annoyed at the teasing when he's got the perfect slide against Matt's hipbone, feeling his hard cock catch and drag along the side of Keith's as he ruts by it. He could get off like this, a finger rubbing against his entrance as he mouths at Matt's neck, just the hint of a sting in his scalp...

But Matt has other plans, judging by the way the rubbing stops and Keith's world tilts as Matt twists to get the lube on his nightstand. He takes about four seconds too long to slick up his fingers as Keith writhes impatiently on top of him, only settling once the fingers slide back between his cheeks. Matt chuckles down at him, applying more pressure on each pass of his finger, just enough to breach now but not enough that he slips inside, and Keith is ready to beg for it.

“Please Matt.” He mouths between kisses along Matt's collarbone, stopping to suck a mark in the hollow of his throat. “Please, just fuck me open.” The fingertip jolts, pressing in and staying as Keith clenches around it with a whine. “Please, I need more.”

Matt muffles a curse into dark locks and shifts for a better angle, pressing in to the knuckle as Keith rolls down onto him desperately. He thrusts it in a few times, testing the give before pushing in a second just to hear Keith's keening whine. The arch of his back is beautiful as he tries to push onto Matt's hand futilely, held fast by the hand in his hair. He rolls like he's torn between pressing into the friction on his cock and getting those fingers deeper, thankfully Matt's feeling charitable today.

The push of a third finger has Keith panting through the stretch, eyes rolling as Matt scissors and curls, delicately brushing that spot that make sparks dance up Keith's spine. He's so close to the edge now, he can feel it shivering under his skin with every grind into the filthy spot inside Matt's hip and brush over his prostate... and then a fourth finger pushes in.

“Oh fuck, oh _fuck._ ” Keith whines into Matt's chest, mouthing at his nipples and smearing drool across his face. He's a flushed wreck writhing on top on Matt's chest, guided by the iron grip on his hair as Matt pulls his head up to meet his gaze.

“Almost done already Kitten?” Matt's teasing tone can't quite mask the flush across his body or the way his own cock is leaking onto him as Keith rolls down, frantically chasing release. “I thought I'd get to fill you up tonight.”

“Fuck– _please._ ” The cry rips out of Keith's throat, startling them both, but Matt pulls his fingers free to oblige him. A few strokes over his already messy length and he's lining up to where Keith's open and twitching on top of him, legs splayed wide on either side of his hips. He looks so pretty like this, all strung out and desperate to be filled... Matt can't resist ducking down to growl in his ear.

“Say it again, Kitten.” He rubs his swollen head on Keith's rim, letting it catch and pull every time without pushing in. Keith moans and tries to push back, voice breaking as he gets stuck on the hand tangled in his hair. Matt takes the opportunity to dip down and sink his teeth into Keith's shoulder, popping the head of his cock halfway in at the same time, before drawing it back out again and leaving Keith empty. “Say it. Beg for me.”

Keith lets out a broken cry into his chest, fingers digging into Matt's shoulders as he tries to shove himself down despite the sting in his scalp. His leverage is good, but the aim isn't and he succeeds only in sliding Matt's cock between his cheeks, riding the cleft of his ass and smearing lube and precum all the way through it.

Matt relaxes his grip on Keith's hair but clamps down onto his hip, a wicked grin curling over his mouth. “Oh is that what you wanted Kitten?” He pulls back to slide himself from Keith's balls to the small of his back, grazing Keith's hole with his tip on each pass and dragging his length over it. “Why didn't you just say so?”

Keith collapses onto his chest in a shivering heap as Matt fucks the cleft of his ass in earnest. The hand that was tangled in his hair is now helping to hold his cheeks wide open with the middle finger on each of Matt's hands dipped in to spread his hole wide. The constant friction is torture, catching over and over but never sliding inside, while his weeping cock rubs against Matt's flexing abs. Matt groans underneath him, mouthing at the side of Keith's neck with a cocky grin.

“I think I might just cum like this, mark up your pretty back, let it dribble down into that greedy hole... what do you think, Kitten?”

Something inside Keith snaps as he practically snarls, wrenching out of Matt's grip and grabbing his cock. He lifts up to his knees, shifts backward, and bottoms out in one smooth movement, drawing choked gasp from them both as they curl forward into each other.

“Holy fucking shit.” Matt wheezes, feet scrambling in the sheets to brace against the bed as his hands fly back to Keith's hips. “Oh fuck.” His eyes are squeezed shut as he holds Keith down, feeling those abused muscles spasm around his cock in an effort to adjust. “Are you okay?”

Keith bats the hands on his hips away as he braces a palm on Matt's chest and begins to move. The look on his face is nothing short of predatory as he lifts himself off before rolling down hard, not giving either of them a chance to get used to the feeling. “Just peachy.” The growl tears from his throat as he digs his nails into Matt's chest and slams his hips down again, determined to ride him into the mattress for every second he made Keith wait. Matt's hands creep back to his waist to clutch uselessly, stroking over Keith's sides as his eyes roll back up in his head.

“Fuck, Kitten slow down, I'm gonna-”

“Too bad.” Keith reaches down and twists Matt's nipple again, relishing the yelp that tears from his throat as Matt's back arches underneath him, changing the angle just enough to slam into his prostate dead on the next thrust. He can't muffle the moan that tears out of him, and Matt's eyes snap open as he pushes to get his feet under him, snapping his hips up into Keith's aching body.

“You little fucking minx.” He wheezes, wrapping a hand around Keith's weeping cock and stroking in time with his thrusts. Keith's entire body seizes on a stuttering cry and he rocks forward, trembling as Matt nails his prostate once... twice... and then he's clamping down hard, all fluttering muscles and long column of exposed throat as he spatters Matt in his release. The sight alone is enough to send Matt spiraling, thrusting up and pulling Keith down onto him, spilling deep inside with a shout that echoes around the little room.

Keith collapses on him without preamble - a pile of graceless limbs, sticky and dripping with sweat as their torsos seal together in a mess of cum. Matt doesn't even have an ounce of concern to spare over it as he runs a soothing hand down Keith's slick back, feeling the heartbeat racing against his chest.

“Alright Kitten?” He murmurs into Keith's tangled hair, nosing against his ear as Keith shifts his hips and draws a hiss from them both. The shifting stills and the tangled mop nods into his chest, and suddenly Matt is so, so sleepy. They'll regret not cleaning up later, especially when he softens enough to slip out and spill a river of cum all over Keith's thighs and the sheets, but for now... he heaves a content sigh and goes boneless against the pillows behind him, drifting off to the light snores muffled into his chest.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Shiro wakes up to a cheese hangover and hushed giggling coming from the living room. His room is in that hazy twilight with the blinds pulled where he can't tell if he slept all night of just dozed off for an hour or two, but either way it was much needed – even if he does have to face the reality that all he dreams about these days is Keith's breathy moans invading his subconscious. Groaning into his pillow, he gives a little shimmy to work the kinks out of his back before rolling to curl around his pillow and nuzzle into it, fully prepared to sleep another eight years.

Except the whispered giggling doesn't stop.

It's obviously Keith and Matt judging from the burst of slightly louder laughter, and the suspicious lack of thumping around makes him think it might actually be something worth getting out of bed over... but his pillow puts up a fantastic argument. He nuzzles his face into it, breathing deeply and letting out a jaw cracking yawn as he fumbles for the phone on his end stand. The screen is obnoxiously bright in the cozy lighting of the room, but a squinted glance lets him know that it's barely dinner time.

The giggling gets louder, accompanied by the beep of the kitchen timer and the shuffling of feet. Shiro rolls over fully onto his stomach and pulls his knees up underneath him, stretching his back and shoulders as he sighs. It's definitely going to be hard to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight now, so he really might as well go join whatever is going on out there. One last long sleepy grunt is all he allows himself before sliding his legs off the bed and plodding toward the door, thankful he'd had to foresight to pull on sweatpants before crashing into his food coma earlier, avoiding the trouble of finding them half asleep.

Matt's bright face greets him from the stove as he stumbles blearily into the kitchen. He's got on a pair of oven mitts and he's giggling semi hysterically as he wafts what might be smoke out of the oven.

“I think it's probably done?”

“I told you that's not how ovens work.” Keith's exasperated tone calls from the couch where he's splayed across the cushions playing Mario Kart. “You're literally a rocket scientist, you should be able to cook a pizza.”

Matt pouts across the kitchen before pulling the only slightly burnt pizza out and setting it on the potholder set up on the stove top. “That's not fair, they're two totally different sciences.” He catches sight of Shiro's bewildered stare aimed toward his masterpiece and flaps his oven mitt. “Shiro tell him, baking is hard!”

Shiro scratches at the hair on his stomach under the hem of his shirt, blinking between Matt and Keith as they tease each other. “Uh.. I mean, it's got instructions on the box doesn't it?”

“Hah!” Keith crows from the couch, jabbing a finger in Matt's direction and promptly driving off the map. “See? I told you to read the damn box.”

Matt rolls his eyes and wiggles the spatula underneath the pizza to peek at the damage – hardly charred at all. He points to it with his mitt-clad hand and thrusts the spatula into the air. “Hah yourself!” He leans over the stove to turn the oven off and pulls the mitt off with his teeth. “I told you 375 for twenty minutes and 425 for thirteen were close enough.”

Keith rolls his eyes and heaves himself off the couch, dropping the controller on the table on the way over. “I'm telling Hunk that you refuse to follow simple directions in the kitchen.” He wanders over and pokes at the center of the cheese where it's not quite melted like it should be. Squinting at it, he pokes again, testing with a knuckle this time as he whirls to glare at Matt. “For all that char the middle isn't even done! You've got to let it cook longer and lower for even distribution.”

“Bipbipbip!” Matt smacks his hand with the spatula and bullies him away from the stove. “It's perfectly edible.” He grabs the pizza wheel and gestures menacingly with it before stabbing it into the center. “Besides, if you wanted it done your way you could have gotten up and made it yourself.”

Keith's scowl is made slightly less frightening by the way he sucks on his stinging knuckles, but Shiro still worries he might have to step in and break up a pizza induced cat fight. He definitely didn't get enough sleep for this.

“I told you I was perfectly willing to make the pizza as long as-”

“As long as you get to make Shiro's disgusting favorite kind, I know!”

Shiro furrows his brows at that, pretty sure he should be offended as his attention pings between the two of them.

“It's not disgusting.” Keith swats at Matt's encroaching face as the foolhardy man leans in to mock him. “And at least it would be cooked properly.”

“Uh, guys...” Shiro takes a hesitant step toward the oven where the pizza sits, uncut and rapidly cooling. “Maybe we should just-”

“It's cooked fine!” Matt flails his hand, making Shiro duck to avoid getting smacked in the face, and Keith steps into his space to grab his arm with a glare.

“Watch where you're flailing!” He pulls the arm down and around behind Matt's back to push him against the counter face down. “You almost hit Shiro!”

Matt grunts, kicking his leg back to catch Keith in the shin as his face mushes into the counter. “Oh we can't injure his precious face now can we?” Keith ignores him, rolling his eyes as he sucks on his own pinky, getting it nice and wet before jamming it into Matt's ear. “Augh! What the fuck!”

Keith's grin is vicious as he pins Matt down and wiggles his finger. “Say you're sorry.”

“Keith, he really doesn't need to...” Shiro steps toward them, touching Keith's bicep to pull him away. “He didn't even hit me.”

Keith shrugs him off and aims a dangerous smirk his way. “Don't feel sorry for this asshole.” He leans down and licks a disgustingly wet stripe up Matt's cheek before leaning back up to look at Shiro's horrified face. “He's been cheating at Mario Kart for two hours and now he fucked up dinner.”

“I didn't cheat.” Matt garbles out, face wrinkled in disgust. “You just suck.”

Keith smiles sweetly down at him and presses harder on his back, shifting to plant his elbow on Mat's spine as he uses the hand to cup his chin and aim that saccharine look at Shiro. It's terrifying.

“Hey Shiro, would you mind cutting that monstrosity?” He nods his head over to where the pizza cutter is still somehow upright in the middle of the pizza. “I'm a little busy right now.”

“Aah... sure?” Shiro flicks a glance to Matt's crushed face, wondering if he's imagining the betrayal in the drooly mess and wrinkle lines. He edges around what might be the beginning of Keith's serial killing career and nervously rolls the cutter through the suspiciously gummy center of the pizza. It takes far more effort than it should to get some semblance of even slices between the mushy middle and crispy edges, but Shiro does his best to hurry as Matt's gurgles grow more disgruntled behind him. Dumping the bladed weapon safely in the sink, he wipes his hands on his sweatpants and turns back to the one sided melee. “You can let him go now, the pizza is safe.”

Matt lets out another disgruntled gurgled as Keith heaves off of him, rolling out his shoulder as he straightens up with a glower. “Asshole.” He scowls at an unrepentant Keith before stalking over to swipe a piece of the pizza up and shove it in his mouth. “See? It's perfectly...”

Keith raises an eyebrow as Matt trails off, face pinching slightly as the gummy texture sinks in. “Perfectly what, Matt?” He gets a middle finger in response as Matt powers through the slice, struggling to maintain a straight face as he chews.

“Perfectly edible.”

Keith snorts as Shiro edges forward to brave a slice, folding it in half in an effort to counteract the two extremes of texture. The first bite goes down alright, but the second brings a funny to look to his face as he pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “Well... he's not wrong?” Shiro shrugs, mumbling through his mouthful. “It is technically edible.”

“Technically.” Keith grunts, leveling Matt with a flat look as he reaches out to poke the soggy middle. Flicking a sarcastic look up to Matt, he arches an eyebrow and pulls out his phone to check the time. “You're lucky I've got a backup plan.”

“Backup plan?” The hopeful lilt in Shiro's voice is almost offensive as he chews dutifully through his slice. “What kind of backup plan?”

“The kind where you're stuck with me.” Matt elbows him in the ribs with a scowl, looking mildly betrayed as Shiro pouts. “Lance finally whined enough for Keith to give in on a Bachelor party.”

The pout deepens as Shiro swivels a hurt look over to where Keith shuffles uncomfortably. “Lance is planning your party?” The 'but I'm your best man' goes unspoken, if not unheard as Keith flinches under the look.

“It's not like a real party...” He hedges, fiddling with his keys as he grabs them off the counter. “I agreed to meet him for beers if he would stop trying to get me a stripper.”

The pout doesn't budge. “Did you... want a stripper?” Broad shoulders slump as Shiro does his best imitation of a whipped dog. “I could have gotten you a stripper.”

Long fingers pinch the bridge of Keith's nose as he takes in a breath and holds it, releasing slowly after a few seconds as he stares Shiro down. “No. I did not want strippers, which is the only reason why I agreed to beers and dancing.”

“And dancing?” The interested tone in Matt's voice draws Keith's scowl again, and for once he has the self preservation instinct to raise his hands in surrender. “Dancing sounds uh, lame.”

Keith grunts at him, eyes still narrowed. “And it won't happen if I can help it anyway.”

Another gusty sigh leaves Shiro as he looks up at Keith through his lashes, appropriately pathetic for a cast-off best man. “I'm sorry I didn't throw you a party...” His gazes drops back to his sock-clad feet as he worries one into the tile grout. “I guess Lance probably should have been the best man after all.”

The look Keith and Matt share could level Mt. Everest as Shiro does his very best to conjure up sad violin music with his mind. Making a note to get Shiro's hearing checked, Matt throws an arm around his shoulders and tugs him to the fridge. “Nah buddy, we've been planning this.” He throws his best 'play along' glare at a bewildered Keith as he grabs two beers and shoves Shiro toward the stool. “Keith gets you for the wedding – forcing me to have my little sister as best man, by the way.” He pauses dramatically, pouting a little when the appropriate sympathy doesn't materialize, but carries on valiantly. “So I get you for the fun night, and he gets stuck with Lance.”

Shiro looks up, expression slightly less pathetic as he looks between Matt's thousand watt smile and Keith's frantic nodding. “Really? You both wanted to hang out with me?”

“Of course we did!” Matt's punch glances off his shoulder as he clinks their bottles together. “And I won because you were my best friend first.” He flaps a dismissive hand in Keith's direction and leans down with an exaggerated whisper. “Don't tell him, but you were my first choice for pinky swear marriage too.”

The bark of laughter that escapes Keith is contagious as Shiro fights to contain his snickering and throws a fond look at Matt. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess there's only one thing left to do...” Twisting in his seat, he fires off a two finger salute in Keith's direction. “Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Keith.”

Shaking his head with a smile, Keith pockets his keys and snags his leather jacket from the back of the chair. “Alright old timers, don't stay up too late.” His wallet slides into his back pocket as he toes his shoes on and tosses a wave behind his shoulder. “I'll be back at some ungodly hour probably, don't wait up.”

Then the door thunks behind him and Shiro twists in his seat to eye Matt speculatively.

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

Matt's toothy grin is back in full force as he plucks the rest of the six pack from the fridge. “Well for starters, we're gonna get good and drunk.” Shiro nods sagely and tips his head back to chug the remainder of his first beer before popping the top on another with his thumb. Matt's grin widens as he leans in, sipping his own bottle. “Then I think it's time you and I had a little chat.”

Shiro blanches and downs the second bottle in one go, holding his hand out for a third. Matt throws his head back laughing as he slides it over with a pat to Shiro's broad shoulder.

“Nothing that bad!” He takes a long pull of his own and tilts his head toward the couch. “I dunno about you, but I'm not inclined to sit on a wooden stool all night.”

Groaning, Shiro drops his head onto the counter before sulkily following Matt to the living room. “I thought you just said it wasn't going to be a bad talk.” Matt scoffs at him, throwing himself onto the far cushion as Shiro eyes him warily from the other side of the couch. “This feels like you're getting me comfortable for terrible news.”

“Shiro, I'm dying.” Matt deadpans, clutching a hand to his chest blandly. “I only have several decades left to live.”

Shiro's face goes sly as he quirks a grin over the top of his bottle. “I said bad news.”

The pillow to his face is admittedly well earned.

“Asshole.” Matt grumbles, poking Shiro with his toe as his friend snickers and pushes the cushioned projectile safely off the couch. “You would be lost without me.”

Humming in agreement, Shiro settles further into the couch stretching his legs out along Matt's hip. “I would, who else would come up with the worst plans ever and actually follow through on them?”

“Speaking of...” Matt interjects smoothly, wiggling his eyebrows at Shiro. “How about this whole wedding business?”

The sudden tension in Shiro's shoulders betrays the calm tone of his voice. “What about it? It seems to be coming along nicely.” He doesn't bother to meet Matt's eyes, knowing the world's most done look will be firmly settled on his face. Instead, he gets a kick to his shin.

“Cut the shit, Shirogane.” Matt's tone is sharp enough to make him flinch, and Shiro swallows down his trepidation and meets Matt's narrowed gaze. “You don't like this. Why are you playing along so well?”

Mouth suddenly dry, Shiro shrugs and takes a sip of his bottle. “It's not my wedding, what's not to like.”

“Oh I dunno...” Matt's tone is equal parts saccharine and sarcastic as he picks at his nails. “Maybe you've just realized after a decade that you're in love with Keith.” The beer in Shiro's mouth forcefully clears the length of the couch, speckling Matt in little droplets. “Gross.”

“I- I'm not-” Shiro sputters, wiping his sleeve across his mouth as Matt scrubs at his own face. “We're friends!”

The scrubbing pauses as Matt throws him the world's most incredulous look. “Buddy I don't know who you're trying to fool cause you can't lie to either of us.” He shakes his head, grumbling as he takes off his glasses to clean the spray off them. “I've been watching you stumble around with different assholes for ten years while that kid pines away after you...” Pausing, he squints at his glasses and nods, satisfied by the lack of spit as he shoots Shiro a knowing look through them. “It's about damn time you realize what you've been ignoring.”

“No...” Shiro shakes his head, face apparently torn between going ashen and pink as he blushes in splotchy patterns. “No, it's not like that I-”

Matt leans over and plants his palm on Shiro's knee, cutting off his frantic protests. “It's okay Shiro, I'm glad you finally realized it.” Giving the knee a gentle squeeze and a pat for good measure, he scoots over and leans conspiratorially into Shiro's side. “For a while I was actually worried it was unrequited and I would have to watch Keith cry over you for our entire sham of a marriage.”

“Your... he... what?” Shiro shakes his head, brows pinched as he shifts away from Matt. “No, he... no.” The head shaking intensifies as he throws Matt a betrayed look. “You're wrong. He called me his brother.”

The harsh bark of laughter takes him by surprise as Matt collapses back onto his side of the couch, one hand dragging through his hair in exasperation. “Oh my god, he will never live that down...” He looks up at Shiro as if it physically pains him to have speak of something so ridiculous. “Do you know how many drunken nights I've watched him dramatically lament the 'stupidest thing he's ever said'?” The air quotes hook into a place behind Shiro's sternum, but Matt rolls onward, hands flailing in exasperation as he gains steam. “Do you know that the second he essentially 'no homo'd' you he called me panicking because he was drunk and worried using the word brother made him incestuous cause he wanted to 'ride you into the sunset'?” The hand dragging down his face pulls at his eyes, stretching them in a worrying manner as he rants. “Have you ever been railed into another dimension by him and then heard him mumble the name of your best friend in his sleep?” Matt's grin is sharp as he leans in for the kill. “Because I have. I've consoled him every time you get a new boyfriend – did you know we throw a 'hope this one doesn't stick party' on each first date? No?”

Shiro gapes like a fish at him across the couch, world spinning entirely off it's axis now as his best friend rails at him with ten years of pent up frustration. “Matt I-”

“Oh no. You've had ten years to fix this buddy.” Matt leans forward and jabs a finger into Shiro's chest, flicking it up to shut his jaw. “Now you get to listen.” Shiro raises his hands in surrender, sinking back into the couch to escape Matt's fury.

Matt's scowl solidifies as he eyes Shiro's disbelieving face, clearly just waiting for him to be done. “You've had him on standby for a decade and never even bothered to let him down easy. I refuse to believe you're that fucking thick that you never noticed him on deck for this long.” Shiro's brow furrows, actually offended by the accusation that he would intentionally string Keith along, but Matt's s still going. “You've been out there having boyfriends left and right, but you give him shit any time he has fun overseas or we hook up.”

“It's different.” The muttered protest slips out without his consent and Matt's freezes, eyes narrowing on Shiro's hunched shoulders.

“Different?” His tone is unnaturally calm and Shiro swallows hard, the feeling of digging his own grave creeping over him.

“I was looking for love... you two were just...”

“Just what, Shiro?” The chill in Matt's voice should have made him stop right then, but Shiro has always been foolishly stubborn.

“Just fucking! He's been just... sleeping with other people! How was I supposed to know that he wasn't happy or that he wanted something when every time I see him he's got a fresh set of love bites all over him?”

Matt leans back, looking for all the world like the cat that got the canary. “Jealousy is unbecoming, Shiro.” He flashes those teeth, the ones that have been embedded in the back of Keith's neck as they- “Just because you don't have the balls to fuck our boy properly-”

The snarl on Shiro's lips as he lunges forward takes them both by surprise as Matt topples off the couch to avoid strangulation and Shiro abruptly yanks back when he catches sight of Matt's face.

“Oh my god...” He scoots backward into his arm of the couch, staring between his hands and Matt's crumpled form. “Oh god I'm so sorry Matt, I...” Curling his knees up to his chest, he ducks his head and buries his hands in his hair. “I don't know what I'm doing.”

Matt stares at him from the ground, wide-eyed as his best friend falls apart in front of him.

“Shiro...”

“M'sorry Matt...” Shiro's voice is thick where it's muffled by his knees. “I don't know how to fix this.”

Matt laughs nervously from the floor, crawling up onto the couch next to Shiro, ready to launch at any minute in case this is a trap to finally kill him once and for all. “Well, good thing you have me here right?” He risks nudging Shiro in the thigh, trying to get any reaction other than the sad sniffling. “It's not me that he wants to marry you know...”

Shiro tenses and Matt flinches away, waiting for the inevitable strangulation. When it hasn't come five seconds later he risks peeking an eye open to see Shiro's morose face over his knees. “But you are marrying him.”

Matt heaves a long, drawn out sigh and scoots back closer to Shiro, risking an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Shiro, Keith didn't need to look for love. He found it ten years ago in some idiot with a broken wrist from saving a kitten.” He aims a meaningful look at the scar on Shiro's arm before grabbing his bottle back off the table and staring into the swirling liquid there. “He's just been trying to ease the pain of not having it since then.” Downing the rest of the bottle in one go, he stands up and pats Shiro on the shoulder. “You should think about it, cause I promised him I'd be there for life and I intend to follow through one way or another.”

With one last squeeze he walks into his room and shuts the door, leaving Shiro on the couch with his head and the chunks of his heart in his hands.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Shiro fakes a stomach bug the next day, daring Matt with his glare to breathe a word about it when he peeks his head in. Fortunately for both of them, he settles for rolling his eyes as Keith leans over and presses the back of his hand against Shiro's forehead.

“Well, you don't feel like you have a fever, so it's probably just food poisoning or something.” The palm flips over and cards through his bangs, brushing them off his forehead. For once he doesn't bother to stop himself from closing his eyes and sighing, pushing into the touch just a little.

“I'm sure I'll be fine by this afternoon.” He opens his eyes and holds Keith's concerned stare, forcing a weak smile back at him. “I've got laundry to catch up on anyway.”

Matt doesn't come in the room to check, but judging by the tromping of boots and jingling keys, he's just outside the doorway.

“C'mon Kitten, we're gonna be late.”

Keith's fingers curl against Shiro's scalp, twitching at Matt's voice before releasing and letting the hair flop back in Shiro's eyes. He steps back and the sudden distance feels like a yawning chasm as he turns to go, tossing one last glance back toward the bed.

“Call us if you need anything, okay?”

Shiro nods dully, watching the curl of Keith's lips as he smiles - then he's gliding through the doorway to join Matt, their voices melding together as they tease each other on the way out.

The echo of Matt's threat hangs in the air, _one way or another_.

They sound like an old married couple, or like two best friends who know each other inside and out. Do he and Keith sound that way to other people? He had thought that they were about as close as two friends could be before this whole debacle started, even if he was firmly stomping down his own feelings in stubborn denial.

Keith hadn't bothered doing the same.

Shiro scrubs his face with his hands, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he breathes in the stale air of his bedroom. It's stifling in the tiny room, but so is the rest of the apartment, and at least in here he doesn't have to come face to face with how much of an idiot he's been just yet... except for the picture of the two of them on his dresser. And Keith's ratty t-shirt in the corner of his closet. And the astronomical watch kept carefully in its glass case that Keith spent several paychecks on for Shiro's last real birthday. And the years of birthday cards he's kept carefully tacked to his board...

Groaning, he snatches his phone off the table, desperate for a distraction as it pulls up his lock screen – a picture of him and Keith. His thumb slides through the code without his permission, casting the image to the abyss in favor of his home screen – him, Keith, and Kosmo.

Nowhere is safe.

He wishes he could wonder how this even happened, but the phrase 'boil the frog' leaps to mind immediately... like those stupid Hallmark movies that always talked about falling in love 'slowly... then all at once.' That's what his life has become. A gay Hallmark movie. All he needs to do now is kick the door to the church open dramatically and shout his objections seconds before they kiss.

Except they're getting married on the edge of a cliff, so it would be more 'This Is Sparta' than anything else... and he's the best man so that means no dramatic entrances.

Not that he would do that in the first place, of course. He's a grown, rational man who has grown, rational feelings.

Lots of them.

For Keith.

On the bright side, at least Matt's cleared the air so forcefully it saves Shiro the trouble of stewing for the rest of his life, maybe. If he does anything.

But what is there even to do? Attempt to ensnare Keith with some of Lance's terrible pick-up lines? Throw himself prostrate and cling to Keith's feet, hoping he'll find ten years of idiocy acceptable? How does he even start the conversation?

He clears his throat and straightens up, aiming a charming smile at the picture of them.

“Uh, hey Keith. Remember how you've kinda been in love with me for a while and I kinda had an inkling but didn't want to like really know that... because I also have kinda lovey feelings for you but didn't really want to do anything because you're like my brother like you said so... haaaa?”

It sounds even worse out loud. Flopping onto his back, Shiro grabs his pillow and slams it over his face, muffling his scream inside it until he runs out of air. It helps enough for another attempt, and he sits up to spin back to the picture, smile firmly in place.

“Keith. I love you too. I say too because Matt spilled the beans so if you're going to be mad at anyone here it's him and not me, so if you need someone you're not mad at to marry instead...” He trails off, throwing in jazz hands for effect.

It's marginally better. Maybe not enough to convince Keith that he should abandon months worth of wedding planning with someone who has already promised him a life of support and no strings sex for someone who has been a colossal moron about his feelings - even with the track record for fantastic friendship to back him up... At this point, that's really what he's counting on. He knows Keith better than anyone - except maybe Matt apparently, but you're bound to find out a few things about someone when you've been fucking around for a decade – but he definitely knows him well enough to count on the fact that Keith is unwaveringly loyal. If he hasn't given up on Shiro this entire time then he's not going to, fake marriage or not. So really it's a matter of setting himself up as the preferable choice for husband.

He needs to woo him properly, like he should have done ten years and eight boyfriends ago when he first noticed how stunning his new friend was. Instead he had promptly drowned in a case of piss warm beer in an effort to burn the thought from his head to avoid making things awkward. Ten years later he's still got his head in his ass, smashing down every hint of feelings with a drink like he's playing the world's booziest game of whack-a-mole.

In hindsight, he should have just made things awkward. It would have been a lot less awkward than it is right now, occasionally listening to muffled whimpers through the wall and pretending he didn't jerk off to it the next morning. Less awkward than trying to pick out wedding decorations with someone who knows that all he wants to do is steal their fiance and ride off into the sunset on a metaphorical white horse.

But they say hindsight is 20-20, and Shiro's old enough now to use reading glasses when no one is there to tease him, so it's really not his fault. What matters now is the moving forward, the planning, the scheming, the... wooing.

The problem now is that Keith doesn't even like to be wooed. The last time one of his 'friends' got him flowers he had immediately cut contact with the guy after a very awkward shoulder pat they all had to witness... it was rough enough that Shiro will do nearly anything to avoid becoming shoulder pat guy.

So no flowers... but that's fine, because there's plenty of other things he can give Keith. Like good jerky, or a new whetstone for his pocket knife, or a coupon for a day where Shiro does his post-flight paperwork. All the... romantic things in life?

Groaning again, Shiro drags a hand down his face and hauls himself into the kitchen, hoping a little coffee will shock his brain into some semblance of romantic genius – he's had plenty of boyfriends before, he should be able to woo someone. Granted, none of them lasted more than a few months with the exception of Adam, but they had to at least have been wooed a tiny bit to get even that far.

Mercifully, Keith had made enough for him and left his usual mug on the counter, prompting a flurry of butterflies to erupt in Shiro's stomach at the thoughtful gesture. He feels wooed... Keith is so good at wooing without even trying, and here Shiro is sucking down the caffeinated representation of Keith's emotional labor in their relationship without a reciprocal gesture to offer. What can you give the man who gives everything?

He needs an expert.

Steeling himself, he scrolls through his contacts, sucking in a breath and letting it out as shaky sigh, resigned to the knowledge that this is his life now as it rings.

“Hello, this is the Sharpshooter speaking.”

Shiro almost hangs up the phone.

“Heeey Lance.” His voice sounds weak even to his own ears and he cringes, knowing Lance will smell blood in the water. “It's Shiro.”

“Oh I know. I, like most people in this century, have caller ID.” The smirk through the line reminds Shiro that it's still not too late to tap that little red button and try this on his own. “What's up big guy?”

“I...” The words stick in his mouth, strangled by his tattered dignity as it fights to shove the shame of going to Lance back into the bottle where he keeps his emotions. A thousand excuses float through his mind, maybe he should just ask to borrow a cup of sugar... but this is Keith, and he needs to _woo._ His dignity loses the fight with the world's smallest death rattle. “I need your help.”

The pause on the other end of the line feels like a lifetime before Lance's sniffle breaks the silence.

“I'm sorry, can you... can you say that again? I've always dreamed of you saying that to me.”

Shiro sighs, long and drawn out as he reminds himself that he would do anything to have Keith.

“I need your help, Sharpshooter, you're my only hope.”

The next sniffle is wetter this time and he can picture Lance fanning himself as he squeaks across the line.

“Of course! Anything Shiro, you name it.” His voice is an octave higher than normal as he rambles. “Is this finally to take care of your closet? I've been telling Keith for years that you need to get a stylist, but of course _he_ says that you look fine, but he wears a cropped jacket and gogo boots so obviously he can't be trusted...”

Shiro pounces on the pause. “No it's about-”

“Oh!” Lance bowls right over him. “Wait, are you trying to get some best man advice for the big day? I heard you were jealous that I threw such a killer Bachelor party.”

Shiro bristles, he wasn't jealous. “No. It's the opposite-”

“Oh no!” Lance gasps in his ear. “Are you going to back out on Keith? Shiro, you can't! It would break his heart if you weren't there for him!”

“ _No_ Lance, listen to me!” Shiro growls into the phone. He can feel his vein pulsing against the corner of the plastic and he wonders if he actually called Slav by mistake. The other side of the line is blissfully silent save for Lance's breathing, but Shiro still takes in an intentionally loud inhale just in case. “I need-” He pauses again, waiting to get cut off as he squints at the far wall of the living room. Lance makes only an inquisitive squeak. “Help wooing Keith.”

It comes out in a rushed jumble of breath, as if the words themselves had been pent up equally as long as the intent and couldn't wait one more second to be free.

Lance doesn't respond.

“Uh..” Shiro coughs into the receiver, shuffling his feet on the floor. “Lance?”

The wet sniffling is back.

“ _Shiro_!” Lance is absolutely blubbering into the phone, forcing Shiro to pull it from his ear as Lance makes the world's most disgusting snort inward. “I've been waiting to hear you say that for years!” Shiro exhales, shoulders slumping in relief, knowing that he made the right call. “I'll be over in fifteen - no, ten minutes!”

The line goes dead, and with it so does every hope Shiro had of an easy solution.

He contemplates downing a beer before Lance gets there, but avoiding this problem with alcohol got him into this mess in the first place, so he sits on the couch and waits. Twelve minutes later frantic knocking announces the arrival of his guest and he trudges over to the door. The second the bolt clicks, Lance is barreling through and throwing his arms around Shiro's neck, smearing what he really hopes isn't snot into his shoulder as he blubbers.

“This is the best day of our collective lives.” The words are enthusiastic, if muffled, as Lance heaves dramatic sobs into the collar of Shiro's shirt. Somehow, Shiro doubts the validity of the statement, but hesitantly lifts his hands to give Lance an awkward pat on the back all the same.

“Ah, yeah bud, me too.” He clears his throat and keeps patting until Lance's sniffles settle into 'less wet' territory. “So, uh... ideas for wooing Keith?”

Lance jerks back abruptly, eyes and nose red as he drags his sleeve across them. The grin splitting his face is blinding. “Right!” He laughs incredulously, eyes misting up again for a moment - which makes Shiro panic and resume patting. Lance waves him away with another laugh and sniffles again, clearing his throat with a shake of his head. “Oh man! Sorry, got carried away there.” He clears his throat again and pats Shiro on the chest for good measure, casually wiping off a trail of what is definitely snot. “So, wooing Keith.”

Shiro nods, stepping back over to the counter and grabbing the notepad and pen he had prepared, daring to risk the teasing and sliding his glasses on for maximum power of concentration. He turns back to Lance, clicking the pen with his thumb and holding it poised above the pad.

“Step one?”

Lance blinks at him, reaching a hand out to brace against the counter as he cocks his head. “Well damn, step one is keep those glasses on around him.” He fans himself and eyes Shiro up and down. “Maybe throw on a sweater vest to complete the whole 'sexy professor' vibe you've got going on there, he'll be all over you.”

Shiro blushes to his ears, secretly flattered but ultimately not after that kind of advice. “That's um... thanks Lance.” He rubs the back of his neck and clicks his pen nervously. “But I'm not trying to seduce him... I need to _woo_ him.” Lance blinks at him in disbelief and Shiro furrows his brows, doodling a little circle on the pad. “You know, like... flowers... but Keith.”

Lance's jaw drops in slow motion as Shiro trails off, one hand coming up to pinch his brow as he staggers closer to the counter. “Shiro.” His jaw works uselessly for a moment as he pulls the hand away to stare into Shiro's soul. “Do you think Keith needs to be convinced to date you?”

Shoulders hike up to his ears defensively as Shiro scowls at the question. “I mean, he deserves to be convinced... and I don't want to date him.”

Lance's expression shudders, eyes narrowing as he steps closer to Shiro and pokes him in the chest. “What do you mean you don't want to date him?” The bony finger feels like it goes clean through his sternum and Shiro winces, but Lance keeps coming until he's on his toes, nose to nose in Shiro's face. “Shirogane, you may be three times my size, but all the muscles in the world won't save you from an ass kicking if you're going to string Keith along.”

The fire in his eyes is mildly terrifying and Shiro leans backward as far as he can across the counter, raising his hands in surrender between them. “No! Commit me!” He blurts out, but Lance narrows his eyes and keeps leaning into his space like he'll commit him to an early grave. “I mean, I commit! I want to be Matt! Marriage!”

That stops Lance in his tracks as he blinks down at Shiro's wide eyes and promptly draws back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Oh, why didn't you say so?” He shakes his head, clucking his tongue as he wanders into the living room and throws himself on the couch, looking expectantly over to Shiro who is still clutching his chest against the counter. “Are you coming?”

Shiro shakes his head to clear it, heart still racing from the emotional whiplash he just witnessed. “Yeahh...” He side eyes the door, wondering if it's too late to flee entirely and give up on his own home to escape whatever Jekyll and Hyde dynamic Lance has been hiding this entire time... but Keith. “Just... grabbing water.”

His hands definitely don't shake as he fills a cup and walks it over, sipping as he sits down for lack of anything better to do.

Lance's game face is back on as he splays his hands out wide. “So, picture this!” Shiro nods intently, picking up his pen again. “Keith comes home from a long day, his feet hurt, he has paperwork to do, he's hungry... what do you do?”

“Uh...” Shiro's brow furrows, pen wobbling uncertainly over the page at the question. “I guess I'd... order some take out and let him sit?”

“Wrong!” Lance snaps his fingers, eyes rolling skyward. “That's the best friend answer, you want the _husband_ answer!” Shiro raises his eyebrows and nods uncertainly, obviously not following. Lance takes one look at him and groans, dropping his hands into his lap. “Shiro, you gotta show him what he's missing! Try again.”

Squaring his shoulders, Shiro nods and clears his throat. “I would... run him a bath?” Lance brightens and nods, rolling his wrist to keep Shiro going. “And... make food? And a foot rub?”

“Yes, YES!” Lance claps once and pumps his fist, grinning wildly at Shiro's pathetically hopeful face. “You'll manage this yet!” Then he settles back down, game face in place again. “Okay, round two! You're out doing walking things and he shivers... what do you do?”

Shiro perks up, this is an easy one.

“I give him my jacket!”

Hands fall to slap Lance's thighs again. “No! You'd give me your jacket!”

He's not wrong. Shiro would give just about anyone cold his jacket if they looked like they needed it. His face pinches as he thinks, expression clearing as he gives Lance hesitant look.

“I would, wrap an arm around him? And get cocoa somewhere?”

“Yaaaass!” Lance throws his arms in the air before settling back down, almost comically serious. “Last round!” Shiro steels himself, feeling the romantic thoughts percolating in his brain. Lance's eyes narrow like a gunslinger. “Keith asks your advice about another guy, what do you do?”

Shiro freezes like a deer in the headlights – this is a trap. He knows that the right thing to do would be to lend a sympathetic ear and offer measured dating advice... but as his husband...

“I would... let him vent, maybe see what the interpersonal issue is since I'm his husband so clearly it isn't a dating matter... and then tell him the guy is a douche and give him a hug.”

It comes out more confidently than he feels, but Lance's face is a stone wall. “Are you sure?” He leans forward, eyes narrowed and peering into Shiro's essence again. “Is that your final answer?”

Doubt trickles into Shiro's mind. He's afraid to prove himself unworthy of wooing Keith to the arbiter of wooing, but what other option is there besides asserting his claim?

“Yeees?”

Lance's face crumbles into glee as he jumps to his feet and yanks Shiro into a hug. “Oh Shiro, you're ready!” Just as abruptly, he shoves him to arms length and gives him a commanding look. “Now go get your man!”

Shiro grins and nods sharply, finally ready to do just that.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Shiro is being weird as hell, and Keith would know since he has been carefully cataloging the various behaviors of the Wild Shiro for the better part of a decade. Worse yet, it's the kind of weird that's not so obviously weird that you can put your finger on it and go 'ah, that's the weird part!' - it's more like those uncanny valley robots with the faces that are just off enough to make your skin crawl. Like they're possessed by the spirit of something trying to be human that slipped into someone's skinsuit.

He narrows his eyes at Shiro's slightly off expression over his cup of coffee. Maybe Shiro has been abducted and something else is now this twitchy and unsettling creature wearing his too tight smile... he'll have to run the theory by Pidge.

“So...” Weird Shiro drawls, metal fingers tapping nervously against the counter top. “How's it going?”

Keith keeps his eyes narrowed as he takes another sip of coffee, watching the nervous flutter of Shiro's eyelashes as his gaze darts around the room. He had been unusually clumsy during their jog this morning, tripping over his feet in an effort to usher Keith ahead of him around corners... maybe there's like a zipper in the back of his head that he doesn't want Keith to see.

“It's going.”

The white forelock bobbles rapidly as Shiro nods. “Cool, cool.” The fingers keep tapping. Eyes keep darting around until they land on the fridge and pause, suddenly alight with intent. “Would you like me to make you breakfast?” Shiro's smile is equal parts intense and hopeful as he leans forward toward Keith. “I can make you breakfast.”

Keith blinks at him curiously and sets his mug down with a soft clink, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand as he studies Shiro's face.

“Where did we first meet?”

Shiro's brow furrows in confusion, mouth going slack for a moment before a thoughtful look overtakes him. “I guess college, but more specifically you ran headfirst into me in the astro lab and nearly knocked yourself out... why?”

“Hmm...” Keith's eyes are calculating, making Shiro fidget beneath them. “What's my favorite color?”

This time there's no hesitation. “Aesthetically, red. But you actually like lavender and don't tell anyone because you have an image to keep up.” Shiro's grin is easier now, eyes twinkling in suppressed mirth and Keith relaxes across the counter. “What's up with the questions?”

Snorting in disbelief, Keith cocks an eyebrow at him in return. “I thought you might be an alien plant with how fucking weird you're acting today.”

Shiro slumps, pout threatening to form on his face as he gives Keith a hangdog look.

“I was just trying to be... nice.”

Keith reaches across the counter and pats Shiro's hand where it grips his mug. “I know Shiro, but we both know you couldn't cook breakfast if your life depended on it.” That one earns a grumble, but he's not really wrong and they both know it. He strokes his thumb over Shiro's knuckles to ease the blow. “Besides, you've been all wound up for a day or two now, what's going on?”

All he gets in response is a shrug and Shiro's shifty eyes darting away – which is fine, he can have his weird secrets as long as this doesn't turn into another 'accidentally adopted a raccoon' episode or something equally as Shiro-esque. Squeezing Shiro's hand once more, Keith lets go and trails back to his own mug, satisfied at least that Shiro hasn't been abducted and isn't dabbling in any hard drugs.

“Well. If you ever want to share, I'll be here for you.” It's an absent statement, reflexive at this point to offer Shiro support in whatever he needs, so Keith isn't expecting the small whine dragged from Shiro's chest. He glances up at him curiously, raising an eyebrow at the pink cheeks, but Shiro flaps his questioning look away.

“Thank you Keith.” Shiro's voice is almost breathless and his smile is a watery thing, but the sincerity shining in his eyes sets Keith at ease. “I've just been thinking about things lately... I'm so glad that I'll always have you by my side.”

Keith ducks his head to hide his suddenly flaming cheeks as a tidal wave of warm fuzzy feelings threatens to take him under. “Yeah, of course.” He coughs into his fist and takes a long slurp of coffee, determined not to make a fool of himself with a big dopey grin. “Anytime.” His watch proves to be an excellent distraction as he checks the time and clears his throat, head still ducked. “I'm gonna go wake Matt up.” Then he's sliding off the stool, mug in hand, and scampering down the hall to the emotional safety of Matt's cave.

Shiro drops his head to the counter behind him, letting it sit for a moment before he begins gently banging it against the hard surface. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” The dull pain serves as a gentle reminder he's the world's most awkward human being when it comes to love and even an alien in a skin suit would have done a better job at wooing. Offering to make Keith breakfast... what was he going to do if Keith had accepted, pour him a nice bowl of cereal? Spoon feed him cheerios like a toddler? Sexy.

Even his efforts to be chivalrous during their jog had fallen flat. The hard side eye Keith had given him when he offered to lift him over a large puddle had been one thing, but the continuous flailing over his own feet as he tried to usher him gentlemanly around corners had been the icing on this morning's shit cake. Keith had even suggested they sit and take a breather mid way, mistaking Shiro's flushed embarrassment for overexertion – which is just peachy, he really needed Keith to think he has stamina problems too.

The problem is that wooing Keith, acting like a husband or a lover would, is hard. How does a husband jog? How does one share coffee? Does a husband hold hands when he drives to work? Can he do that without weirding Keith out? Maybe physical interaction should wait until he's properly inserted himself into the sphere of husband contender?

His head thumps the counter again.

 

“Matt!” Keith hisses as he barges into the dark room, stumbling over a discarded pair of jeans on the way to the bed. “Matt wake up!”

“Whatimesit?” Matt slurs, cracking an eye open and shooting a baleful look at the interloper. “M'alarm hasn't gone off.”

“I know, I'm sorry, but it's important.” Keith plops down on the edge of the bed and rolls Matt over to face him, ignoring the disgruntled groan and wave of stale breath. “Shiro's being really weird.” Matt's nose wrinkles as he shrugs and tries to roll back into his warm spot, but Keith catches his arm on the way and forces him onto his back. “Matt, I'm serious. I think something is up with him.”

Another long groan escapes Matt's lips as he stretches like an angry cat and scowls at the pest in his bed. “I'm sure he'll be fine.” Keith's face falls as the dismissal and Matt instantly feels guilty, sighing as he curls around Keith's back. “He's had a rough week is all, you know how he gets into his own head and then overcompensates.”

“Yeah... I guess.” Keith's not convinced, but Matt's right, Shiro does tend to psych himself out about things he can't immediately solve. “Do you think there's anything we can do to help?”

A jaw-cracking yawn curtails Matt's urge to smother himself in his pillow, and he considers the question, eyeing an endearingly earnest Keith as an idea trickles through his mind. “You should take him out to relax and get something to eat, maybe one of those spa things Lance likes.” Keith wrinkles his nose at the idea, not entirely on board with the idea of sitting still that long while people slap fruit all over his face, but Matt's tone turns wheedling as he shoves himself up in bed properly. “I know Shiro used to get pedicures, though he'll never admit to it, and you can call it Bachelor party part two to make him feel better.”

Keith's expression turns thoughtful as he eyes his own fingernails, flicking a suspicious glance up toward where Matt is rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You're not just saying that to make me less gross for the wedding right?”

The snort that leave's Matt's face is very dignified, as are the cackles that follow it. He gives Keith a teasing look and reaches out to rumple his hair. “Really Kitten?” His hand slides to cup Keith's cheek, tucking a stray lock behind his ear. “I've eaten you out after your ass stewed in a flight suit for eight sweaty hours, and you think I care about your nails?”

Keith's cheeks bloom red as he laughs, dropping his hands into his lap as he throws Matt a shy look. “Fair point...” His grin goes teasing as he reaches out to flick Matt on the nose. “But you're no paragon of manscaping either... I've fished so much of your ball hair from the back of my throat I could make a wig.”

“You should.” Matt teases right back, throwing off the covers and scooting to the edge of the bed. “Lots of people would pay for my golden curls to grace their scalp.” The pinched look of horror on Keith's face sends him into a fit of hysterics as he stumbles to his feet, pulling off his boxers as he goes before pausing and throwing Keith a cheeky grin while grabbing a towel from the doorway. “If you wanna catch a shower with me I can shave off some more for you to collect.”

“You are the grossest motherfucker I have ever met, Matthew Holt...” Keith shudders and hauls himself off the bed, careful to skirt around Matt just in case whatever makes him this way happens to be contagious. “I'll make your coffee while you... yeah.” He tosses one last grimace at his stark nude and giggling friend before slipping out the door and settling back next to Shiro who appears to be mind melding with the counter.

Keith lets out a weary sigh and follows his example.

 

It takes nearly all day for him to figure out a good time to ask Shiro if he wants to hang out, he doesn't want to blurt it out on the rare lunch break that they've managed to catch together – not with prying ears waiting for gossip at least. Word had somehow gotten out about his and Matt's wedding and since then he's been getting these strange looks from their coworkers every time he so much as chats with Shiro, as if he wouldn't be on speaking terms with his own roommate and best man. So that means that work was out, and the drive home is out since he and Matt had to stay late to work the kinks out of a new prototype, which leaves the conversation for the night.

Keith figures it might actually work out in his favor this way, he can get Shiro all full of food and compliant before trying to convince him to take a break from his endless workload. He spends the nearly the entire car ride walking himself through the conversation in his head while Matt scrolls endlessly through his tablet in the passenger's seat, silence stretching comfortably between them as they make their way through mostly empty streets. The yellow lights strobe the side of Matt's face as they pull into the more residential neighborhoods, illuminating him in profile and Keith can't help but smile at him fondly and reach over to nudge him.

“Hey.” Matt's gaze flicks up from the tablet, questioning but fond, and Keith uses the hand not on the wheel to boop him on the nose. “I'm glad you're here... you're pretty cool, you know that?”

The corner of Matt's mouth flicks up in a secretive smile as he tilts his head to nose back into Keith's palm. “You're pretty great yourself, Kitten.” He sets the tablet in his lap and reaches over to scratch at the base of Keith's skull, fingertips kneading at the tension there and laughing when Keith's eyes fight to stay open. “Unless you crash, then you're the worst.”

“Pshh.” Keith wrinkles his nose playfully in Matt's direction, eyes never leaving the road as he tilts back into the scratches. “It'd be your fault if I did anyway, you know damn well that's my spot.”

Matt hums innocently at him and digs his knuckles in on either side of Keith's spine, rolling into the muscle there and drawing a groan from his rapidly melting driver. “Do I?” He grins as Keith throws him an unamused look. “I thought your spot was farther down on the front.”

“Har har.” Keith deadpans, rolling his eyes as they finally pull into the driveway and Matt drops his hand. “I'm pretty sure it doesn't count as a spot if it's literally my dick.”

Barking a laugh at Keith's blatant snark, Matt hauls himself from the car and slings his arm around lean shoulders, ruffling Keith's hair as they head inside. Getting home late means Shiro's already curled up on the couch by the time they walk in the door. There's a pair of sweatpants gracing his thick thighs and a stack of papers in front of him as he chews on a pen in the soft lamp light of the living room. Keith studies him in profile for a moment until the door slams behind Matt, startling Shiro into looking up... he's wearing his reading glasses... it's adorable.

Matt gives him a cheeky grin and drops his arm to pat Keith on the ass before shoving him stumbling toward the couch with a wink, earning himself a flushed scowl in return. He takes a moment to appreciate Keith's sudden baby deer demeanor as he stumbles his way over to the couch, apparently struck dumb by Shiro's aura, then he shakes his head and disappears down the hallway, opting not to witness the stilted train wreck this conversation is going to be.

Shiro 's eyes only flick to Matt's retreating form briefly, raising a hand in greeting before his attention drifts back to Keith's pink cheeks and shy smile. He scoots over to make room on the couch, shuffling the papers into a pile and throwing his arm over the back of the cushions as Keith approaches. “Hey Keith, how did the testing go?” The answering shrug is automatic, Keith's eyes almost vacant as he stares at the glasses perched on the tip of Shiro's nose. It makes him rub the bridge of it self consciously, cheeks heating as he adjusts them farther up his face. “Ah, I see you've noticed the glasses...”

“When...” Keith's voice is faint as he trails over to the couch and settles himself into Shiro's side. One long fingered hand comes up to stroke the side of the metal before curling back in on itself and tucking into Keith's lap as he clears his throat. “These are... new.”

Shiro's laugh is self deprecating as he drags a hand through his hair and ducks his head. “Yeah... I've been hiding them for a few months now.” He risks a shy grin up at Keith's moony face, a teasing lilt to his tone. “Didn't want to give you more ammunition to call me old.”

Keith snaps out of his daze at the confession, face going painfully earnest as he leans forward to grab Shiro's hands in his own. “Shiro.” Squeezing them for emphasis, he leans forward until there's no choice except direct eye contact. “You couldn't look anything but great no matter what you're wearing.”

The breath leaves Shiro's chest in a squeaky wheeze, face going from a dusting of pink to a wildfire as Keith's gaze bores into him, so of course he falls back on what he does best...

“What about a chicken suit?” The deflection couldn't be more painfully obvious and Keith's face morphs into fond exasperation before a mischievous smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

“Well, you know how much I love cock...” And just like that, Shiro's spirit ascends from his body in mortification, leaving nothing but a flaming shell on the couch to stutter out nonsensical half syllables, mouth flapping uselessly as his mind is bombarded with images of Keith doing just that in the same enthusiastic way he does everything. The temperature in the room is at least ten degrees hotter than it was thirty seconds ago, and it's all Keith. He swallows hard, eyes bugging out of his head as he tugs on the collar of his t-shirt, hoping desperately that Keith has been suddenly struck blind. Judging by the growing toothy smirk as the man in question laces his hands behind his head and leans back to appraise the damage he's done to Shiro's psyche, he has not. “What's wrong, Shiro?” The toothy smirk gets sharper and those dark eyes are alight with pure evil. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Y-you!” Shiro stutters out, shaking a fist toward Keith's smug sprawl. “Punk!” His cheeks are still flaming, but he at least manages to school his face into some semblance of stern mortification. “You can't just blurt that out!”

Keith shrugs, smug as ever as he watches Shiro flail about for his composure. In the more than a decade they've known each other, Shiro has never been able to talk about anything remotely sexual without turning into a stuttering awkward mess, despite the fact that Keith knows – partly unwillingly through the grapevine – that Shiro _fucks_. Living with him through several boyfriends is enough to verify that, even if Shiro did always try to time it when they weren't home, but coming home early to hear a grown man sobbing to the heavens while getting railed into the next dimension by Shiro was enough to fuel Keith's own fantasies for the next ten years. The fact that he's so shy about it is endlessly endearing... but not enough to save him from more teasing.

“Why Shiro?” He leans forward with a grin and walks his fingers up Shiro's heaving chest to boop him on the nose. “We're both adults, we both know how to use our equipment...” He flicks a glance down to Shiro's lap and back up with a quirk of his lips. “I've heard enough to know you're no blushing virgin.”

“Haaaah.” Shiro squeaks, scooting back into his edge of the couch to escape Keith's predatory grin. He's absolutely certain that he's going to combust in about thirty seconds if Keith doesn't stop his playful teasing. This is not how wooing is supposed to go! “Oh you know... It's just dinner time and all.”

Keith's face goes blank for half a second, fingers freezing mid reach, and then he's leaning back and howling in laughter. Shiro can't help but gasp for air at the reprieve from the delicious torture.

“Oh my god, Shiro.” Keith cackles, wiping at his eyes and snorting attractively. “What are you, someone's grandmother?” His faces screws up into something pinched as he mimes adjusting his glasses. “No carnal talk at the dinner table!” Breaking down into more giggles, Keith drops the act and shoots a still red Shiro a grin, whispering conspiratorially behind a raised hand. “You know we're not even eating right now, right?”

“Shut up.” Shiro grumbles, shoving his glasses up into his hair as he pouts down at the papers in front of him. “You haven't eaten yet, it counts.”

Keith rolls his eyes in response, grin still playing at the edges of his lips. “Alright old timer, how about you feed me then, what's on the menu for tonight?”

Shiro straightens up on the couch, definitely not responding with 'my cock' as he thinks and ticks off on his fingers with a flourish. “Well, at Chateau Shirogane we offer the finest peanut butter and jelly, and cereal – locally sourced from our very own cupboard.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Keith who has taken it upon himself to wear his most impressed face as Shiro stands and makes his way to the fridge. Nose wrinkling, he pulls outs some takeout container and holds it up for Keith's perusal with a dignified air. “For our special tonight we have only the best aged lasagna, from depths unknown and...” He grunts, digging around in the back before pulling out a tupperware container that is suspiciously blue in one corner. “...the finest moldy cheese.” He shoots a furtive glance down the hall before lifting his hand in a stage whisper. “We'll save that one for Matt.”

Keith hums thoughtfully, fingers tapping his chin as he surveys the bounty across the room. “Well good sir, this is quite the selection...” He peels himself off the couch and shuffles over to the silverware drawer to grab a knife. “I believe I will have to sample your finest finger sandwich.”

“Mmmyes.” Shiro drawls in his best fancy voice as he grabs the peanut butter down from the shelf. “An excellent choice sir, might I suggest our finest grape vintage to go along with the pureed legumes?”

“Mmm, indeed.” Keith nods, nose in the air as he settles at the counter, watching Shiro whip up a pb&j and cut it diagonally - the way he likes but will never admit. He reaches over to grab a tissue from the box and tucks it into his collar as he holds his hands at the ready, pinkies out in preparation for his meal. Shiro slides the plate across the counter with a bow, fighting his giggles as Keith picks it up in just two fingers on each hand and makes ridiculous nibbling noises on the first bite. Several thoughtful hums later he nods decisively at Shiro and sets the sandwich down, grabbing his phone and pretending to type as he eyes Shiro. “Dear Yelp. Five Michigan Stars to Chef Cheeriogane. Pureed legumes and congealed vine fruit on heated yeast loaf was magnificent. The view was lovely as well, mountainous.”

Shiro huffs a laugh as he washes his hands, leaning his elbows on the counter as Keith puts his phone away and wolfs down the rest of his sandwich. It takes all of thirty seconds before he's sliding the plate back over for Shiro to dump in the sink, earning himself a disbelieving look as Shiro sighs and rinses the crumbs off. “First the chef, now the maid...”

Perking up, Keith leans farther over the counter with a perfectly angelic face as he definitely doesn't think of Shiro in a maid costume. “Speaking of, you should take a relaxation day with me.” Shiro raises a curious eyebrow as Keith tries on his best charming smile. “It'll be great, we can hang out and go to a spa thing.”

“Since when do you like 'spa things'?”

The air quotes Shiro uses would almost be insulting if his smile wasn't so good-natured, so Keith reels in the urge to bristle and instead offers an easy shrug. “Since I heard you got a pedicure once and wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” Shiro feels his cheeks heat for the umpteenth time that night and makes a mental note to murder Matt in his sleep, but Keith doesn't seem to notice or care as he barrels on with his sales pitch. “Besides, it'll be like a real Bachelor party, just you and me hanging out for a day decompressing, maybe getting massages... I think you'll like it.”

The fact that Keith is trying so hard to sell the idea of something that Shiro would jump at the chance to do is ridiculously endearing – he could have told Shiro that he wanted to sit in the Walmart parking lot for a few hours and Shiro would have cheerfully tagged along if it meant more time for the two of them... and spas can be awfully romantic.

“You know, Keith... that sounds like a great idea, I'd love to.”

Keith perks up immediately, bright smile spreading across his face as he nods like a bobblehead. “Yeah? Okay! I'll go call them and make reservations and we can make a whole day of it, maybe try some of those weird seaweed wraps or whatever else Lance was mentioning and-”

He's halfway off the stool when Shiro decides to pop his bubble.

“Keith, buddy... it's 9pm.”

The air goes out of him like a deflated balloon.

“Oh... tomorrow then!”

And then he's pink tinged and marching down the hall as Shiro chuckles behind him, mind dancing with new wooing strategies.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The spa is everything Keith has ever pictured, fueled by the bombardment of ads full of flaxen haired women with cucumbers over their eyes. The lights are gentle, diffused upward toward the ceiling to cast a soft glow over the pastel aqua walls. There's a little fountain trickling in the corner and fresh cut flowers wafting a hint of scent through the rooms. The woman at the desk looks like she should be in a toothpaste commercial as she beckons them forward with manicured fingers and picks up her pen.

It's enough to make Keith's fight or flight instincts prickle, but Shiro's eyes are wide as he takes it all in, shoulders visibly relaxing as he breathes in deeply.

“Hello, do you have an appointment for today?” Her voice is so soft Keith has to strain to hear it and he shuffles forward awkwardly to mumble in the quiet room.

“Uh.. under Keith I think.”

Nodding once, she taps at her screen and smiles back at them, warmer this time. “Ah, I see you've chosen the wedding package, congratulations!”

“Ah.. yeah, thanks.” He rubs at the back of his neck and offers an approximation of a smile in return, throwing a desperate look toward Shiro for assistance.

Fortunately, Shiro is happy to play buffer in awkward situations, stepping up to plant a hand reassuringly on Keith's back as he smiles at the woman, sparing him from more social stumbling. “Thank you, what does the package entail?” Keith melts into the hand as Shiro takes over, perfectly content to let him take the reigns from here as he looks around at the décor, all too aware of the warm palm searing through his shirt.

“Oh! It's our most comprehensive package.” The woman perks up and hands Shiro a brochure, tapping on the column with a beaming couple up top. “It includes a couple's massage, manicure, pedicure, and sauna session.” She looks between them with a dreamy look and sighs. “It's very romantic.”

That gets Keith's attention and he jerks his head to look at Shiro, who remains unfazed and smiling beside him. “That does sound wonderful, thank you.” His voice is steady as Keith's mind continues it's tin whistle tune of mild panic. He had asked for the wedding package over the phone because it had the most stuff, and it was tangentially for a wedding... but he hadn't realized it was intended to be a couple's package instead of a 'girl's night' sort of thing. Either way, there's nothing to be done about it now except to bite the bullet and act like it's what he intended all along.

The woman nods graciously, not noticing Keith's constant fidgeting as she gestures to a door on their left. Shiro smiles serenely back, pressing his palm against Keith's spine to lead him into the dimly lit room while Keith tries his best not to hyperventilate. The room has a few private lockers in it with signs to place their belongings and clothing inside before taking a robe to begin their day. Keith swallows nervously, darting glances at Shiro as he reaches inside to finger the satiny material of the robe. When it doesn't bite him he takes a deep breath and takes the plunge, shucking his clothes off as he snags a sleeve and slides it over his bare arms. The cool material feels like heaven on his flushed skin as he fiddles with the waistband of his boxers, trying to decide what 'undress to your comfort level' really means.

He turns to ask Shiro but the question dies a wheezy death on his lips as the epitome of Man stands before him, pulling on a robe that strains at the seams on his arms and barely grazes the meat of his thighs at the hem. If he were to try to pull it tight across his chest it would gap in at least two places – places that Keith is dying to cover with his tongue as Shiro lets it flutter open, broad chest and dusky nipples on display with a trail of dark hair that leads into the top of tight black shorts.

“So we leave them on?” Keith squeaks out, laser focused on the impressive bulge Shiro is rocking. Shiro grunts something back at him, but Keith's higher brain functions have turned themselves off in favor of amplifying his visual abilities to save this moment forever. It's not until the fluttering hem draws tight across and breaks his line of sight – the bulge is _still_ visible through that layer – that Keith drags his gaze to Shiro's pink cheeks with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, what?”

Shiro clears his throat, hands fidgeting with the hem and drawing Keith's gaze back down involuntarily. “I _said_ , you can if you want. That's why I suggested the fitted boxers.”

“Oh.” Keith breathes, licking his lips as the hems flutters. He tears his gaze away to look down at his own tiny shorts, his cock is already trying to say hello and he can only imagine how this day will go if he went naked... with his luck someone would probably lose an eye leaning over him. “Yeah, I'll leave mine on too then.”

Shiro grunts out his assent, burying his face in his locker as he attempts to burn the image of Keith's fingers hooked in his own waistband into his psyche. That's definitely one for the spank bank – but so is the way the silk robe flutters against his skin. Shiro would give anything to lay him out with that robe pooled underneath him as he takes him apart with his tongue and fingers. He'd kill to ruin that fabric, mopping up sweat damp and sticky skin before throwing it onto his bedroom floor.

...This day may have been a grave miscalculation.

But Keith doesn't seem to notice how he's trying to rattle off flight statistics in his head to keep his erection at bay, or the way he can feel the flush creeping down his own chest, so at least he's alone in his mortification. Keith's locker shuts and he smiles up at Shiro, unaware of the debauchery whirling in his mind as he reaches forward to tug playfully on the tie of Shiro's robe.

“Come on, old man.” He brushes past him in the narrow cubby, chest grazing Shiro's back as he steps through, brimming with false confidence. “Time to see if your fancy spa thing is all it's cracked up to be.”

Shiro swallows hard and reminds himself there will be plenty of time for breathing exercises later as he shuts his own locker and turns to follow Keith. “Whatever, punk.” He sniffs with as much composure as he can manage as Keith throws a devastating grin over his shoulder. “You'll thank me later when you're a puddle of rose-smelling jelly.”

Keith snorts and pushes through the door into the adjacent hallway and wanders to a room a few doors down with their names written next to each other with a little heart on a placard. He taps it with his finger and wiggles his eyebrows at Shiro, cheeks tinged. “Aw look, we're special!”

Shiro doesn't fight the too soft smile that creeps across his face, nor does he point out that every door has a little heart written under the names. “Well, it is for a wedding after all, we've gotta be extra romantic.” He teases, thoroughly enjoying the way Keith's cheeks heat even more as he shuffles inside, head ducked but grinning at his feet.

The room is dark, lit only by the flickering candles and some glowing chunk of rock. There's a tiny fountain trickling water on a loop to accompany the soft sounds of nature playing from hidden speakers. He hopes it doesn't make him have to pee in the first fifteen minutes. Keith looks around, eyebrows raised as he nods at the setup before turning to Shiro with a serious face and a thumb jerked over his shoulder.

“I'm gonna take a leak if they're gonna make me listen to that for an hour.”

Shiro can't help but bark out a laugh as he waves him away, thinking fondly that Keith has always been more of a man of action than he has. The door doesn't even have time to swing shut before two surprisingly small women slip into the room. Their voices are just as soft as the receptionist and Shiro hopes their touch will be a little firmer. He's got knots in his back old enough to be driving at this point and was half hoping to be crushed to death by a man twice his size. He stammers out a thank you as they offer congratulations on their upcoming nuptials, glad for Keith's disappearance as he preens a little at the thought of being mistaken for someone who could be the fiance of the hottest man he knows. They move around him in near silence as he stands awkwardly next to the bed, not wanting to lie down until Keith gets back but not quite sure on the protocol for this since he's already undressed to a robe and underwear... but they don't seem to pay him any mind at all and set about heating up stones and other assorted things that Shiro can only assume he's going to be prodded with.

An eternity later, or maybe five minutes, Keith slides back into the room looking a little damp around the face as he steps over to the bed and into Shiro's space. He doesn't quite shrink at the presence of the women, giving them a small wave as they offer him pleasant smiles and nods before gesturing to the tables. Keith pauses and looks at Shiro who gives him an easy smile, understanding his hesitation. It's only natural that he'd be nervous for his first time, especially since he has never been one to get tactile with strangers. Shiro can see the uncertainty in the lines of his shoulders as he looks between them and the bed, and he steps forward to lift the robe off Keith's shoulders, smiling at him encouragingly as he sucks in a quick breath. Keith returns the favor with shaking hands, eyes wide as Shiro grabs his hand and helps him onto his table to lay face down before turning to settle into his own. Then it's just the sounds of the water and music punctuated by the soft rustling of the women in the room.

Shiro tries his best to relax and settle into the table, letting his eyes close as small hands ghost along his back, spreading oil as they go. He tries not imagine them bigger and more callused as they start to knead into his overworked muscles with a surprising amount of strength. Next to him Keith breathes out a sigh that sounds like it was dragged from the depths of his chest and he instantly squirrels it away into the 'noises to remember' file in his brain. He's so busy daydreaming about the ways he could pull that sound from Keith himself that he misses the way the hands pause above his lower back and _dig_ into a knot, drawing a startled groan from him as the tension releases in a ripple up his spine. Keith whimpers on the other bed, apparently on the receiving end of the same treatment.

After that it's no holds barred as the two massage therapists poke and prod and rub a decade worth of tension from the two of them, making the room echo with gasps and moans. Shiro feels like someone has beaten him with a bag of marbles from the tiny knuckles jamming into his neck, but the aftermath is so good, and the soundtrack is even better. Keith is apparently a vocal recipient of pleasurable touch, something Shiro has known through a wall on and off over the years, but hearing it a foot from his head while his own body is being pampered is an entirely new thing for him to ponder in his alone time. By the time they have them both flip over Shiro is grateful for the professionalism and the lack of giggling about the tent he's making in the sheets – at least he'd had the foresight to try to tuck himself up into his waistband. Still, it's harder to relax when he knows he can just turn his head and see Keith half naked and getting rubbed down with oil within arms reach. Hopefully he'll get the chance to reenact it himself someday.

A few last gentle strokes to his face and the whispered instructions for the next phase in his ear pull Shiro from his blissful imaginings, then the door creaks open as they slip out of the room, leaving Shiro and Keith to get back in their robes at their leisure. Another deep, contented sigh pulls his attention over and he rolls enough to catch sight of Keith, arms over his head, back arched and shuddering as he stretches out. There's an impressive tent over his hips and the entire package is going to be burned into his hindbrain forever. Shiro needs to be over him right now.

His arm is reaching out before he can think about it, bridging the gap between their tables and brushing the hair off his forehead. Keith blinks his eyes open, rolling his head over with a blissed out smile and Shiro files that one away under 'post orgasm faces', as if he didn't have enough to work with already.

“Hey.” Keith croaks, looking for all the world like he's just had the best brain melting sex of his life all sprawled out and a little disheveled. Then his cheeks tinge pink as he glances down and palms himself, trying to flatten down his obvious enjoyment of the massage. “Uh... that was nice.”

Shiro chuckles and nods down to his own problem as he pulls his arms up above his head and stretches out his chest. Keith swallows audibly next to him and his lizard brain preens. “We should probably get ready for the next part...” He lets his arms drop back down and pulls off the sheet, swinging his legs over the edge of the table and twisting his back. Keith follows suit and it makes the bulge in his shorts even more apparent as he stands up, close enough to brush against Shiro's knees. He turns around and reaches toward his robe but Shiro is quicker, snagging it out of his reach and holding it up for Keith to slide his arms into. The material clings with the oil residue on his skin, outlining the muscles of Keith's back in the dim lighting. One step forward and Shiro would be pressing himself against Keith's plush cheeks, slipping right against that silky material... the table is even the perfect height, all he'd have to do is plant a hand between Keith's shoulder blades to bend him over with that tight ass right there to worship. He could lick the oil off his skin – or better yet, lick it into him as he stretches him open on his fingers. It would be so easy to push that robe up and pull those shorts down and just rut against him, so easy to slip a hand underneath him and stoke that mouthwatering cock as he covers Keith's body with his own... so easy to sink his teeth into the back of his neck and...

“Shiro?” Keith's voice is light and relaxed as he holds Shiro's own robe, startling Shiro out of his fantasies as he twists to look at him over his shoulder. “Your turn.” Then Keith is turning in his hold, silk sliding out of Shiro's fingertips as they stand chest to chest. One breath too deep and they'll be pressed together. One errant hand sliding out to cup Keith's hip and they can grind and touch... “You gonna turn around?”

Keith's tone has gone decidedly snarky as he cocks an eyebrow at Shiro, blissfully unaware of his internal crisis. Shiro swallows down his mouthful of lust and shoots a cocky grin right back, holding his arms out to the side.

“Nah, I don't think I will.”

Keith snorts, eyes rolling as he leans in to throw the robe around Shiro's shoulders like a cape. The movement makes their chests brush, sending sparks up Shiro's spine as Keith leans even farther to tug one sleeve onto his arm and over his shoulder. The other doesn't quite reach with Shiro's arms splayed out and Keith levels him with a flat stare as Shiro wiggles his eyebrows in challenge.

Keith's never been one to back down from a challenge.

Stepping closer, Keith melds them flush together, stopping Shiro's breath entirely as he grabs for the silk-clad arm to twist it behind Shiro's back, pressing him into the table with his hips and tugging the empty sleeve far enough to slide onto Shiro's other arm. He raises his head to fix Shiro with a triumphant grin, hands fisted into the front of the robe, only to come face to face with an utter lack of resistance and Shiro's violently red cheeks.

And the very impressive erection crushed against his own, hot and heavy where he can feel it throbbing. He freezes like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide and mouth parted in a little 'o' as Shiro lets out a pained whimper.

“Ke-ith.” Shiro chokes out, eyes pinched shut as his hands tremble inches above Keith's hips. “If you don't move...”

Keith swallows hard, lost in the fantasy with his heart beating out of control in his chest as he watches Shiro's heaving pecs. His hips twitch forward of their own accord. “If I don't move, what?”

Shiro grunts out a whine, eyes snapping open as he squints down at him. “We're both going to get very messy for the very public next part.”

The reminder is like a bucket of ice water and Keith jerks back, bumping into his table as his cheeks flush with embarrassment and desire. They still have hours to go in their treatment and here he is so wrapped up in the couple's retreat daydream that he's crushing his dick against his best friend. “Fuck... sorry.” He wipes a hand down his cheeks and shuffles sideways out of the gap between the tables, trying to discreetly slap himself in the nuts to make it go away.

“No worries.” Shiro wheezes behind him, trying to do the same before he has to face other people in the light of day. “Things happen, best not to be sticky for a few hours.”

Keith nods, still turned away and tense, furiously flexing his thighs and thinking of Lance in a speedo as he reaches for the door. “Yeah... of course.” Clearing his throat doesn't help, but it's something to do. “Next part is facials, right?” He'd love a facial of a different kind right about now, but beggars can't be choosers. Shiro remains silent for a moment, running through his last few encounters with Slav. It deflates him faster than he would have thought possible with Keith half naked within arms reach. “Shiro?”

“Right! Yes.” Shiro shuffles forward next to him and pats him on the shoulder, clutching his robe tightly over his chest. “Facials.” Then he's ushering Keith out the door into the hallway again, leaving them both blinking in the diffused lighting as they follow the directions given to them by the massage therapists.

The next door opens to a brightly lit room with two plush massage chairs set side by side, each with a small towel and a glass of water set on a little table on the outside. Two more smiling women usher them into the chairs and they exchange anticipatory grins, leaving their robes on this time as they settle in. Soon two little foot spas are brought over and their faces are slathered in a cool goop – it's everything Lance has ever babbled wistfully about and Keith can't help but be a little smug that he gets to experience it first.

Rolling his shoulders back with a contented sigh, Keith stretches his fingers out, cracking one eye open as his hand brushes against Shiro's own. Shiro is peering back at him, floof pinned up with a little bow and face smeared in greenish mud. He wiggles his pinky in greeting against Keith's own, drawing a grin that threatens to crack Keith's mud at the corners of his mouth.

“Tch!” The little woman in front of him clucks her tongue at him playfully as she massages his calves. “Newlyweds... just hold hands and stop ruining your masks!”

Keith is grateful for the thick goop that hides his blush as Shiro shrugs and plays along, tangling their fingers together like it's the most natural thing in the world as he closes his eyes again and tips his head back. Keith gives a tentative squeeze and follows suit, feeling for all the world like a teenage girl when Shiro squeezes back. Between the warm hand in his own, the rolling of the chair on his back, and the ministrations against his legs and feet he's in utter bliss.

Too soon their fingers are gently untangled as the attendants begin to work on their hands, tutting and teasing as they scrape off years of calluses and dead skin. If Keith didn't know what his cuticles were before he certainly does now after being poked with a tiny stick and scrubbed with some sort of sandpapery tongue depressor. He's half worried that after all this beautification he's going to split his knuckles the first time he cracks open an engine casing. He risks a scolding and cracks an eye open to catch Shiro slumped into a boneless heap, thoroughly enjoying the hand massage and pampering.

It's heart-stoppingly adorable, tiny clipped floof, mud mask, and all.

A knowing hum from below draws his sheepish gaze back toward the woman at his feet, but she only winks at him and wiggles her eyebrows toward Shiro. Keith gives her a weak grin back, wishing she was closer to the mark. He is eternally grateful to Shiro for playing along with Keith's potentially awkward flub, even if it does make him kick himself when his poor gay heart does somersaults... but really it's all worth it to see his usually wound up Captain letting go.

Before he knows it their faces are getting scrubbed clean from the mask and their legs wiped down as the women titter at their wobbly legs when they try to stand – but it's really not their fault, Keith feels like every muscle in his body has been liquefied and Shiro isn't looking much better as he clutches the edge of the chair. They're ushered into the sauna as nimble fingers swoop in and steal the robes from their shoulders, pressing towels into their hands in their place before swooping back out of the private sauna room.

Keith throws Shiro a panicked glance, unsure of the protocol here but finds him already losing his underwear to wrap the towel around his waist and _goddamn._ Keith has seen him before, but Shiro is just hung and out there and the towel doesn't even begin to cover him properly. His mouth goes mysteriously dry as Shiro lowers himself onto a wooden slatted bench and leans back onto his elbows with a sigh, legs spread as he gives Keith the perfect shaded view right up the towel. He throws Keith an easy smile, eyebrow raised. “You coming?”

Keith nearly swallows his tongue as he nods, hooking his thumbs into his shorts as he slides them down his legs and wraps the towel around his hips, not daring to make eye contact with Shiro as he settles onto the bench across from him. Shiro grunts in approval and makes no effort to close his legs, manspreading to his heart's content as he basks in the sweltering moisture. Keith takes that as his cue to mirror the pose, letting his head droop back as he breathes in the perfumed air. It leaves him feeling unsettlingly bare but he stands his ground, refusing to open his eyes as he lets the heat seep into his bones.

“This has been nice.” Shiro sighs across from him, sounding more relaxed than Keith can ever remember him.

“Mmhmm.” He stretches out his legs, toes curling against the wood floor as he hums with a smug grin. “Lance is gonna be so jealous.”

Shiro barks a laugh, tipping his head down to grin at Keith - and promptly feels his spirit leave his body. He had thought he was being subtly clever, leaving himself on display as he was, but Keith upped the ante and then some. The humidity in the room is beginning to make the ends of his hair curl around his face and bead of sweat trickles down his neck, past his collarbone, through his pecs and abs... down... down... until it dips into the loose towel. And even then, the towel might as well be a gauze veil for all it hides Keith's lower half, spread for admiration. He wants to drop to his knees and worship, to crawl across the floor between them and nuzzle his face into those sweaty thighs, hoping that Keith will use them to snap his neck so he can die in paradise.

His own towel begins to tent again and he drops his hands into his lap to try to force it down, cursing himself for not spending his entire morning beating his dick raw to avoid exactly this problem. Unfortunately, Keith drops his head at Shiro's telling silence, catching sight of his strained smile and obvious erection before promptly flushing to the tips of his ears. Shiro can only offer a weak chuckle in response as he scoots his hips back and closes his knees, succeeding only in making it more prominent up top.

“Really Shiro?” Keith attempts a deadpan, grin teasing at his lips even as his face stays brilliantly pink. “You're not even getting rubbed down anymore.”

Shiro's face twists as he lifts one hand to drag down his cheeks, letting the beast free for a moment before dropping the hand back into his lap. “Shut up, Punk.” He squeaks out, clearing his throat and failing miserably in his attempt to send an aloof look back at Keith. “I'm very gay and in here with a handsome man, can you blame me?”

Keith's jaw drops, taken aback by Shiro's honesty. He had been ready to chalk it up to a relaxing day, but to have it explicitly laid out that Shiro was hard _for him_... if the heat wasn't already making his head spin this would do it. Breathing out a shaky exhale, Keith aims a tiny smile at Shiro and shrugs at him, feeling the heat pooling in his own gut as he lets his eyes trail over Shiro's defined muscles.

“You know, you're not too bad looking yourself.” His teeth sink into his bottom lip of their own accord as watches Shiro's abs ripple when the man leans forward. He lets his gaze linger for a moment, not bothering to cover himself as he begins to stir before dragging his eyes up to catch Shiro's heated stare. “A guy would have to be blind to be immune to that.” He jerks his chin in Shiro's direction and revels in the way the flush travels further down his chest at the praise.

Shiro holds his look like a dare, unable to tear his eyes away from the stubborn jut of Keith's jaw or the droplets curling down it. The air is almost too thick to breathe, and only half from the hot stones underneath their feet. He feels like they're teetering over the edge of something that he'd love to dive headfirst into, but they haven't so much as acknowledged this thing between them – and he'd rather cut off his own delicate appendages than let Keith think this was something spur of the moment or casual to him... so he leans back and resettles his elbows on the wood behind him.

“Drink it in then.” He teases, struggling to keep his voice light as he smirks in Keith's direction and waves a hand to his chest. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to ogle _The_ Takashi Shirogane.” Keith's jaw drops, incredulous as Shiro waggles his eyebrows and channels his inner Lance. “I didn't even make you buy tickets to the gun show.”

Keith's not even embarrassed by the high pitched giggle that escapes him as he slaps his hands to his face, unsure what his life has become. He peeks through his fingers to catch Shiro's best Casanova face and promptly doubles over. “Oh my _god_ Shiro, stop!” His smile feels like it's threatening to crack his face as he wills his heart to stop it's somersaulting. By the time he's stopped giggling they're both back into familiar territory and he cocks an eyebrow and a finger gun at Shiro. “And technically, I did pay for these tickets.”

Shiro gasps at him, scandalized. “You paid for your own wedding spa day?!”

The pearl clutching would be hilarious if he didn't look so genuinely upset and Keith shrugs, hedging as he stares intently at the ceiling.

“I mean, I'm going to... it's really just a Bachelor party, right?”

Shiro groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes. “That's even worse Keith!” He drops the arm and flails his hands into the air as if the god of wedding planning will lend him his authority. “You can't pay for your own Bachelor party!”

“Pfft.” Keith flaps his hand dismissively at Shiro's distraught face.. “It's a fake wedding, I can do what I want.”

Scowling at the wall, Shiro huffs like a petulant child. “Well it feels real to some of us.”

Keith's head cocks like a confused puppy as he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Shiro, you know this whole thing is a total farce and that I'm not in love with Matt, right?”

Shiro shrugs, feeling even more like a toddler at Keith's slow tone, but stubbornly unable to let it go. “Well, you've got to at least a little... you're marrying him.”

All Keith can do is blink at him, unsure of the words needed to make 'fake wedding' any more clear. “Shiro...” He starts, then trails off before gathering his thoughts with a shake of his head. “Shiro, no. I would rather marry Kosmo than Matt if it was real.” Shiro still won't meet his eyes, only raising one shoulder in acknowledgment that he's speaking. “Like... god, Shiro. There is not one drop of romantic feelings for Matt in my entire body... he's a good lay and a better friend but...” He can't help but sputter out a laugh at the absurdity of someone thinking he and Matt might be an actual couple, let alone Shiro who has watched the two of them wax each other's asses on a drunken dare. “No. Just... no.”

Shiro's shoulders droop in something that Keith's isn't strong enough to hope is relief and a shy smile blooms on his face. “Oh.”

Keith huffs another laugh and shakes his head in exasperation. “Yeah, oh... you've been thinking we were fucking with you this whole time? Like, surprise it's a real wedding?”

“No...” Shiro's shoulders hike back up as he darts a defensive look at Keith. “I just thought maybe...” His voice trails off into muttering as Keith squints and leans forward.

“What?”

Grumbling, Shiro scowls at him all put upon as if he hadn't brought this all on himself. “I thought that maybe... you hadn't realized it yet.”

Keith's jaw goes slack as he stares at Shiro in disbelief. The man of his dreams, Adonis himself, over here dumb enough to be worried that Keith will be in unrequited love with his walking shitpost of a best friend for the rest of his life - when Keith's been casually wanting to have Shiro's metaphorical babies for the better part of ten years. It's almost painful to watch. He can feel his jaw working uselessly – knows he must look like a gaping fish as Shiro squirms under his gaze, but all he can sputter out is an incredulous, “For _ten years?_ ”

Shiro huffs and crosses his arms, squeezing his pecs together in a way that almost derails the entire conversation. “It's possible for someone to not fully realize their feelings for ten years.”

Pushing his hair back in exasperation, Keith sighs at Shiro's pecs, unwilling to address his stupid face. “The level of delusion involved in that scenario is almost insulting.” He drags his eyes up to meet Shiro's, eyebrow raised. “And frankly, if you think I'm that dumb I'm a little offended.”

The sound that escapes Shiro's chest can only be compared to an abused chew toy as he flails his hands frantically at Keith's unamused face. “No! No.” He scrubs one hand down his face and offers it out in sweaty supplication. “You're the smartest person I know... besides Pidge.” Keith snickers and nods as Shiro reaches out to grab at his hand. “I'm an idiot, okay? Just an idiot that projects his idiocy on others.”

Keith grunts at him, squinting suspiciously as he waits for the 'but'... but it never comes.

What does come is the attendant at the door, rapping her knuckles against it gently as she tilts her wrist to the glass.

“Oh...” Keith blinks at the door. “I guess we're done for today.” He eases onto his feet, one hand secured around the towel as he turns his back to Shiro, dropping it for just a moment to slide his shorts back on. Turning back with his towel in hand, he offers Shiro an easy smile - an out from the conversation as they prepare to leave their little bubble.

Shiro doesn't want to take it. There are hundreds of words stuck in this throat, most starting with 'I' and ending with 'love you', but he's never been good at this... so he stands on surprisingly steady legs and slides his own underwear back on, never taking his eyes off Keith. “I guess we are.”

The corner of Keith's mouth quirks up as he holds his hand out for Shiro's towel – resisting the urge to bring it to his face and inhale deeply just to get a whiff of Shiro's essence. Instead they amble out into the hallway where their silk robes are waiting and share the walk back to the locker room in a silence that Keith isn't sure how to feel about. It's thick with unspoken words, easy with familiarity, tense with mutual attraction, comfortable with shared history... it's everything.

Then they're dressing, stretching a little as they slip back into their armor and their roles, pulling on the 'Shiro' and “Keith' that colors their interactions, sharing a smile as they head to the lobby. The woman at the desk tells them with a dreamy smile that a friend had dropped by to pay the bill and tip while they were there, and they share that eye roll too.

“There, now you can stop being angsty.” Keith teases as they step squinting into the daylight. “Matt's the one paying for everything.”

Shiro grumbles and knocks his shoulder into Keith's as they trail down the sidewalk to his car a few blocks away. “That doesn't make it any better, he's the other groom.”

“Eeeh.” Keith flaps his hand dismissively. “It's not like it counts... he's getting his inheritance by getting married.”

Shiro stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk, staring after him as Keith strolls along. “He _what?_ ”

Keith stops mid stride and throws a confused look over his shoulder. “He's getting money from the wedding?” His brows furrow at Shiro's flabbergasted expression and he turns completely to face him, hands on his hips. “Did you not know?” Shiro shakes his head dumbly and Keith sighs in exasperation. “How did you think we were paying for all of this?”

Shiro can only shrug. He hadn't wanted to think about the potential reality where Keith was going into debt to get married to Matt, or the other way around. “Savings?”

Scoffing, Keith snags Shiro's elbow and turns to keep walking down the street, practically dragging him along. “No. His grandfather was an asshole that stipulated inheritance would be disbursed for a wedding and family planning process to try to force Matt and Pidge into traditional lifestyles.” His eyes twinkle with mischief as he wiggles his eyebrows at Shiro. “The old coot hadn't accounted for Matt being bi and clever though, so he's gonna pay for the wedding and then use the rest to do whatever he wants once he has access.”

“Oh.” There's not much else for Shiro to say as he gets pulled down the sidewalk, pieces of the bigger picture snapping into place before his eyes. “So... what then?”

Keith shrugs, not letting go but slowing his steps as he loops their arms together. “Anything really, we don't have to stay married so if he ever finds someone that meets his standards we'll probably split.”

Shiro bristles beside him, nearly drawing to a halt again, but Keith throws him a look and tugs him forward. “But what about you?”

Keith rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh at Shiro's affronted tone. “What about me?” There's no shadow in his eyes as he looks to Shiro, no hidden hurt. “I'll get a cool party and a fun story to tell... plus the tax benefits for however long it lasts.”

The frown doesn't leave Shiro's face. “What if you find someone?”

The look of unimpressed disbelief has never hit Shiro harder. Keith doesn't even dignify the question with a response as he stops in front of the car and gives Shiro a gentle shove toward the driver's seat.

When their fingers graze in the center console on the drive home Shiro figures he really can't be blamed, drunk as he is on the effervescent feeling of hope bubbling in his chest.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Matt is about as close as a man can be to putting his head through a wall without actually doing it by the time the week before the wedding rolls around. It's not even the stress of planning – Hunk's got the catering handled, Pidge is doing the lights and music, Kinkade from work agreed to do the photos and videography, Allura handled the entire flower order like it was nothing... even his mom took care of contacting the venue. For a guy getting married he's had remarkably little to worry about.

Except for the fact that his groom is still _his_ groom.

He had tried the little hints, pushing them together subtly for definitely not date night and platonic bro time, but nothing had come of it. He had thought for sure that just throwing it out there to Shiro would be the final catalyst for some dramatic confession, probably in the rain or something... but they're still there, just mooning over each other in the living room. They even probably think they're slick, glancing at each other with those little shy smiles as their blossoming feelings peek out from concealment like new spring buds long dormant...

Well Matt doesn't have time to wait an entire goddamn planting season and this puppy love baby's first crush bullshit is killing him. When he'd snuck into their romantic couple's retreat to pay the bill he'd managed to sweet talk the receptionist into giving up details as she gushed over how cute it was, how obviously in love the two of them were, how Matt was such a good friend...

Which, of course, he already knew – and nobody seems to appreciate it like they should. Especially not the two emotionally constipated fools brushing knees as they sit and watch a penguin documentary, right in front of his salad. Honestly, who even brushes knees? He wants to scream at Keith to climb into Shiro's lap and grind that ass down like Matt knows he's more than capable of – or scream at Shiro to pick Keith up and carry him off to his room like a caveman to do filthy, filthy things to him.

Anything to stop this whole 'blushing when our hands graze in the popcorn bowl' bullshit that they've decided is acceptable for people living past their third decade of life. This might have been acceptable during the pre-honeymoon phase back when they were freshman – _maybe_ – but even then Shiro had been a serial monogamist, and Keith was content to bury his tender feelings in Matt's ass...

So this entire thing is doubly unbearable because it's so fucking overdue that he wants to vomit. Shiro has forehead wrinkles. Plural. Someone with forehead wrinkles should not be giggling when their crush grazes their knuckles. This is a Captain of the Galaxy Garrison swooning into a puddle over another thirty year old man because they made accidental epidermis contact. Matt feels vaguely ill, like he's been asked to babysit a younger cousin that insists on talking about _boys_ as they braid each other's hair. Like any moment one of them is going to burst into giggles and unironically say the word 'cooties' as they flutter their eyelashes.

He's just a man, sitting in front of two other men, mentally begging them to fuck already. It shouldn't be this hard. Tab D goes into slot A. He knows for a fact both of them get the gist of the operation, now if they could just engage in some practical application and save Matt the trouble of the next week that would be just swell.

But no. His two idiot children are content to sit on the couch and blush, like they're not stupidly in love, like they're not the only people in a twenty mile radius that won't accept it. Now he knows why so many parents hit the bottle when they get teenagers, it's unbearable watching them make terrible decisions with gusto all the while stumbling around in the metaphorical midnight that is their foresight and common sense.

And for one blissful moment – one sweet second of beautiful relief – he thought they'd finally confessed. They'd come home from a romantic spa trip, helpfully planned and subsidized by him, and Keith had his arm looped through Shiro's, and for just that single, glorious moment Matt had hoped... and then Shiro took one look at him and coughed awkwardly, untangling his arm before patting Keith on the shoulder like an _utter fucking moron_ as Keith smiled wistfully after him. And the icing on the cake? Keith sighing as Shiro's door closed, eyes twinkling like a shoujo manga character as he clutched Matt's arm. “Mattie... I think I have a chance!”

Fucking. Ridiculous.

Matt had valiantly resisted the urge to climb into the fridge and scream himself to death on the spot. Barely. Instead he had pulled Keith into his room and asked him to tell him all about the day as he sucked him off, reveling in every hitched gasp of breath as Keith dreamily recounted how they had held hands... right before shooting his load down Matt's throat. Then, like any good friend, Keith had flipped Matt onto all fours and took him apart with his fingers while casually discussing what kind of mac and cheese he had settled on for the wedding.

Weirdest. Orgasm. Ever.

The entire situation has turned Matt's life into something out of the twilight zone. He wakes up, watches his two stupid friends be all gross and in love in the least sneaky way ever, then he goes to work and watches them definitely not hold hands on the drive there, then he works while Keith messages him about this and that and 'I think Shiro almost called me baby'... and then they drive home and Matt gets ridden into the mattress by a boy too stupid to take out his sexual urges on the walking wall of Grade A beef that's got his balls twisted into knots in the first place. Then they eat take out in the living room and chew with their mouths open until Shiro comes out and scolds them for being filthy degenerates. Sometimes they do laundry... sometimes wedding talk comes up, but Shiro doesn't so much as twitch anymore, offering last minute advice and reminders about when to pick up floral arrangements and to call about the installation of the safety nets. Keith just nods along as he chews, reminds Shiro to pick up his grandmother from the airport and to book her hotel...

It's fucking bizarre.

Matt feels like he's the only person living in the world where there's an awkward unspoken love-thing that hasn't been resolved... he refuses to call it a triangle, because _fuck that_. He wants to bash their faces together and yell 'Now Kiss!' but he knows that wouldn't solve anything either. They'd probably just blush and apologize while grazing each other's face with their fingertips in a totally normal way and then go write in their respective diaries that senpai noticed them and _goddammit._

He is just So Tired.

If this shit doesn't resolve itself he's actually going to have to go through with the trouble of getting a divorce later, and that is so less sexy than the whole 'ditched right before the wedding' story. Not to mention the paperwork, and the disapproving looks from his mom... and Pidge's smug satisfaction that he couldn't pull it off in time.

Or the explanations he'll have to give to certain other people who have been waiting to see this moment for years who will probably rip his ears off during the lecture he'll get...

No. This will not do.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

The wooing of Keith is going well, if more slowly than he intended. Sometimes Shiro will make direct overtures, like a graze of their hands as he's passing a fork, accompanied by a warm smile. Keith seems to be open to these advances, accepting the fork with equal finger grazing. At the beginning of the week he'd asked Keith if he wanted to take an extended lunch and eat it on the roof, Keith had agreed of course, and Shiro had stepped up his game and sealed the deal with 'Great! It's a date!' - Keith might even have blushed.

All in all he thinks things are moving along nicely.

Except for this whole wedding thing. It's kind of putting a kink into Shiro's domestic fantasies of running off into the sunset with him and subsequently having both Keith's children and his dogs. All he can really do is hope that Keith gets the message about his intentions and comes to a dramatic revelation that he doesn't in fact want to marry his perfectly good and apparently sexually capable other best friend, and instead run away with his untested and willfully ignorant other roommate.

Or maybe not run away with, since they still need to live here for the good commute and all, and he really doesn't want to move away from Matt either, but the general gist is the same... and eloping would kind of be a dick move with the wedding all planned and paid for and guests coming and...

The whole thing is a mess. Maybe he can just date Keith after they get married – Matt did say they have an open relationship, and as long as he and Matt don't have to _do_ anything he doesn't mind being the third wheel on the polyamory tricycle... and really it wouldn't be the end of the world if Matt wanted to get a little closer, Keith certainly seems to find him satisfactory in that arena.

Shiro grimaces at the road ahead of him, clearly beginning to slip down the rabbit hole of desperation if he's considering sleeping with Matt... but it's been a long day of classes and his problem isn't magically solving itself. It would be great if Matt suddenly abdicated his spot as groom, but the likelihood of that is slim to none based on the ominous 'one way or another' that still has Shiro lurching up in the middle of the night in panic... no, Matt's not going be leaving Keith in a lurch anytime soon.

Pulling into their driveway, Shiro throws the car into park with a sigh and trudges into their garage, taking note of the lack of motorcycle that marks Keith's absence, stealing yet more precious few moments that he has to woo him away somehow.

His shoes aren't even off when he's yanked from his wallowing, accosted by what appears to be the death rattle of sanity.

Matt's hair is a wild mess as he jerks his head out of his room, forcibly reminding Shiro of those cat videos where their eyes glow demonic shades and they only move if you look at them, so he stands stock still – hoping that if he doesn't blink Matt will just stay there doing.... that.

Matt moves anyway, skulking out of the doorway and moving toward him like some sort of shambling horror, freezing Shiro to the spot. He might be frothing at the mouth, but Shiro's too afraid to break eye contact to be sure.

“Heeeey Matt...” He read once that using soothing tones helps to calm wild animals, but it only makes the muscle underneath Matt's eye flutter in warning as he stalks closer, arms outstretched. “How's it going?”

“ _You._ ” Shiro scrambles backward at the growl in Matt's tone, back hitting the door as his hand flails to find the knob - but Matt's on him before he can escape. Long bony fingers curl into his lapels as he's crowded against the door and the look on Matt's face is terrifying as he pushes onto his toes to mush to his nose against Shiro's, eye still fluttering like a panicked hummingbird. “ _YOU!_ ”

“Me?” Shiro squeaks, closing his eyes against his better judgment, trying to turn his head to the side to escape the homicidal gaze of his best friend. The material in Matt's fists groans as he tightens his grip further, garbling his incoherent rage as Shiro's breaths start to come out in wheezy panic. “I'm innocent!”

“I KNOW!” Matt bellows in his face, teeth bared as he gives a shake just for good measure. “I need you to stop being innocent!”

Sputtering, Shiro makes a futile effort to jerk back, held tight in Matt's iron hold. “I don't-”

“You don't!” Another shake all but rattles his teeth as Matt snarls. “You don't anything, what are you doing!?” The hands around his lapels release and shove him back into the door. “If you don't do something _I'm_ going to end up married to our boy!”

Shiro blinks at him, taking in the hair standing straight up as Matt yanks at it exasperatedly along with the bags under his eyes. He's a man on the edge of a mental breakdown, clearly sleep deprived and half insane, and Shiro can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, technical love rivals or not. The stress of wedding planning can be intense, especially if you have to contend with a best friend that's trying to slide your groom out from under you. “Matt... if this is pre-wedding jitters that's normal...”

Matt's hands drop from his hair as he gapes at Shiro in stupefied wonder. “Are you fucking kidding me Shiro? _Pre-wedding jitters_?”

The mocking tone seems a little unnecessary and Shiro crosses his arms with a huff. “I'm just trying to help with-” He flails a hand at the general wreck that is Matthew Holt's meltdown in front of him. “-whatever this is.”

Matt seethes in his general direction, unable to look at the sheer black hole of idiocy that's centered around Shiro's face. “ _This”_ He flails a hand down at himself. “Is a man so desperate to get his friends together that he planned their entire wedding – but the real groom is a little bitch with commitment issues who won't step the fuck up and get his man!”

Shiro stares at him open mouthed, unable to do much but stutter out half protests and little squeaks. He thought he had been relatively subtle, despite having Matt's blessing and marching orders to let Keith know that his love wasn't unrequited, but there's only so much he can do while they're still prepared to tie the knot in a week.

But if Matt's serious...

“Are you fucking with me?” It rips from his chest as a wheeze but it stops Matt's ranting. “Does Keith know about... whatever you're doing?” If they're both in on it Shiro might lose his marbles. So much time wasted with this whole wooing effort when he could have been holding hands instead of grazing fingertips, maybe even smooching Keith's face... or rawing him nightly.

Matt's face is the picture of agony. “Shiro.” The first word comes out laced with enough venomous frustration that he stops to blow out a breath. “Shiro, this entire thing has been such a shit show, we've told you so many times... I don't know how to get it further into your skull that I'm not the groom of choice here.” Pausing again, he drags a hand through his hair and closes his eyes. “Keith loves you.” Shiro makes a sound like he's been kicked and Matt opens his eyes to fix him with the most annoyed look he can muster. “Keith is _in love_ with you. Our long running joke never changed that... he wants to marry you. He wants to become Keith Shirogane. He wants to have _your_ babies and curl up into _your_ arms and cry out his vows while he's clutching onto _your_ hands.” Exhausted, he shrugs and lets his hands drop to hit his thighs. “Does he know I used our joke to try to force your hand?” His mouth pulls tight to the side, something like guilt flickering there. “Strictly, no... and he's going to murder me when he finds out – especially if I was wrong this whole time and you don't want him like that.”

“Matt...” Shiro breathes, overwhelmed at the sudden possibilities and a little nauseous. “Of course I do... but what did you expect me to do?” His voice is pained as he slumps against the door behind him. “He's been an engaged man this entire time, how am I supposed to go anywhere really serious with that?”

The grinding of Matt's teeth is audible.

“Shiro... it's a joke. A joooooooke.”

“He's wearing your ring!” Shiro squawks in protest, flailing his hand at Matt.

Matt throws his hands into the air in response. “'Cause it was fucking expensive and I wanted to remind you at every opportunity what you were missing out on!” Shiro scowls at him and Matt sighs, hauls himself up to sit on the counter, and braces his hands on his knees. “Look, Shiro. I thought you would break in the first week, confess, and beg him not to marry me.”

Dark brows furrow as Shiro squints at Matt. “Why would I do that to my two best friends if they seem happy.”

“You'd just let Keith sit in a loveless marriage when you know he's carrying a torch for you and you love him back.” Matt deadpans, his face the picture of skepticism. “You'd watch our open marriage for years while we fuck random other people in a romantic wasteland and just... be totally unmoved.”

“Well, no...” Shiro sputters, scowling as he stares across into the living room to avoid Matt's judgmental gaze. “But I wouldn't stop your wedding until I knew he was unhappy... and he's not unhappy!”

The sigh that escapes is closer to a gurgle as Matt runs his hands down his face, dragging his eyelids in grotesque frustration. “Of course he's not! I'd never let it get that far, but he's not _happy_ like he is when he's with you!” Hands slap his thighs again and eyelids snap back into place. “Shiro, come on! You know he's crazy in love with you, just make your move and marry him!”

“You're insane.” It's little more than a grunt as Shiro gives up and slides down to sit on the floor. “You think he's going to be totally fine with just switching grooms this late without me even confessing to him...” He stops and shakes his head, voice rising as he tips back against the door. “That he's just going to be totally cool going from friends to married because we snuck around behind his back... do you not understand how crazy this is? This is the level of crazy that I fantasize about you doing in my weird daydreams because I know it wouldn't work in reality!”

Matt shrugs, covering his unease with bravado as he waves a lazy hand. “It's Keith. If he'd marry me on a whim he'd certainly marry you for literally any reason... and I didn't plan this entire wedding with all your favorite shit just for you to ruin it at the last minute – do you know how romantic I am?” Shiro looks unconvinced from his pile of mixed feelings and angst near the shoes. Matt sighs again – beginning to think maybe Pidge had a point about the whole bad idea thing. “Look... you want to be with him, right?”

“Of course I do.” Shiro huffs, offended that he would even ask after all this.

“And you know he wants to be with you, right?” Matt presses, leaning forward precariously as Shiro nods. “Then why not just marry him? When have I ever been wrong?”

Shiro throws him a flat look, considering his arsenal of too many examples and not enough time to answer that one properly. “Don't you think it's kinda sudden for me to push on him?” He was just getting to the hair sniffing stage of his great plan of wooing, sliding a ring on Keith's finger feels like he's skipping a level or twenty in his process.

Heels swinging now, Matt senses his wavering resolve and shakes his head with a grin. “Do you want to marry him someday?”

“I mean, yeah...”

The grin grows by a few teeth. “Do you think you two would ever divorce?”

Shiro scowls reflexively. Of course he'd never leave Keith, he loves him till the end of the line, come hell or high water or weird friends or whatever else they may face. “Never.”

Matt leans back, smug as can be as he crosses his arms in front of him. “Then why not skip the silly small talk and the getting to know each other? You'd die for him, he'd die for you... more importantly you'd both live for each other – what else is there?”

Shiro's mouth opens and shuts soundlessly. Matt's not wrong, but it feels like a cop out on years of waiting that he can't ever make up to Keith. “But... I didn't even ask him.” It comes out small, as if Keith might have an answer other than a teary and emphatic 'yes'.

“Do you need to ask him?” Matt's tone is curious – and less teasing than Shiro had anticipated. “Because we both know what his answer would be.”

“He deserves it though... the whole thing, down on one knee, maybe some flowers... I could do it by the cliff as the sun sets.”

“You mean-” Matt cuts across him with an exasperated look. “The exact same setting that you're going to marry him in. In your wedding. That I planned. For you.” He has the look of a man worn weary by the weight of the sins of other men – Atlas carrying the collective denial of humanity concentrated down into two desperately pathetic men, and his back is starting to hurt. “Because I did plan you a wedding, please acknowledge this is your wedding so I can stop pretending it's my wedding.”

Another noise like a dying rodent escapes Shiro and his eyes blow round as the possibility of marrying Keith starts to creep from his wildest fantasies into the reality of Matt's mental breakdown – like Matt hasn't been trying to subtly kick the idea into his skull for months, like he hasn't nearly resorted to sleep hypnosis to get Shiro to finally make his move. “My wedding to Keith...” The way he breathes it would be almost creepy if it didn't make Matt want to weep with joy.

“Yeah big guy, you and lover boy joined in unholy matrimony till death do you part... just think, you can be filing joint tax returns in no time!”

The snarky tone doesn't even register with Shiro as he looks up at Matt with a dopey smile. “Do you think this will really work? I would file taxes with him so hard...”

Matt has to stare off into the middle distance for a moment, torn between smashing his face into the counter and throwing the salt shaker at a man who is already down. “Yeah Shiro, I think it'll work... I know it's not the way you would have done things, but I swear I've been planning for you this whole time – it's airtight.”

Shiro's face darkens as he shoots a barbed look up to the perpetual bane of his existence. “Yeah, it sure sounded like you were taking one for the team the other night.”

The grin that pulls across Matt's face is equally sarcastic. “Now, now, Shiro...” It twists on his face, edged and mocking. “Sometimes I give one to the team too.”

Shiro flinches at that one, but Matt can't bring himself to feel bad. If he wants to be petty about what they've been up to he can go back to jerking off in his bedroom, alone and jealous. As far as Matt's concerned, he and Keith have had a great run, and are perfectly capable of continuing this trend of friendly debauchery – it's only by the grace of his own bleeding heart that these two are even going to get the chance to stop drowning in denial and find happiness with each other... so he's never going to apologize for the good times they've had along the way. His effort to beam this message into Shiro's skull with his mind must be at least moderately successful since the big guy wilts like a week-old daisy and mumbles what better be an apology for his own sake. Either way, Matt's feeling magnanimous enough to let it go.

“So...” He drags out, eyeing Shiro's puddle of emotional turmoil. “How are you going to do this?”

Shiro's head snaps up, brows furrowed as he looks at Matt like a confused puppy. “I thought this whole thing was your plan!”

Matt scoffs, eyes rolling as as he swings his legs. “What, you want me to propose for you too?” He straightens up and puffs his chest out “Keith, do you take Shiro to be your lawfully wedded husband by proxy of this devilishly handsome Holt standing here today?” He slouches again, eyes rolling. “Yeah, Coran would totally be down for that, all the guests too, A+ planning.”

Shiro's face goes calculating as he peers up at him, and Matt has sudden regrets...

 

It's late when Keith wanders into the apartment, half dead from a long shift and lightly singed in a few places from an engine that burned a little too hot. He's got about enough energy to make it to the couch and die but his stomach has been rumbling since halfway through his overtime and the gnawing hunger doesn't show any signs of stopping. Unfortunately, pickings are slim... there might be some old takeout in the back of the fridge, or probably at least a block of cheese he can take a few bites out of if he's really desperate. He stumbles over that way, steps dragging as he lurches to a stop and leans his forehead against the fridge, not quite ready to make the effort of lifting his arms yet.

“Keith?” Matt calls down the hallway, poking his head out of his room and cringing at Keith's half dead grunt in response. “You look like shit dude.”

The fridge drags against Keith's face as he nods, dislodging one of Shiro's crayon doodles that Matt stuck up there like a proud parent. “Feel like it too.”

Matt hums in sympathy as he comes up from behind to wrap his arms around Keith's waist, leading him to sit on a stool so he can dig around in the fridge himself.

“Just sit, Shiro grabbed some takeout before he left to go hang out with his grandma, I'll heat it up for you.”

Keith grunts his thanks and drops his head onto the kitchen island as Matt bustles around gathering plates and starting the microwave. The quiet electronic hum fills the room as Matt pads back over and buries his fingers to scratch at Keith's scalp, dragging a whimpering groan from his throat.

“Long day?” Matt's breath washes over his neck as the fingers continue their magic, sending tingles all down his spine. It's enough to make Keith want to purr, or to roll over for belly rubs like a contented cat. Instead he half shrugs and pushes back into the hand.

“Was a shit show.”

Matt hums in sympathy, digging his thumb into the base of Keith's skull and eliciting another soft sound. He collars his neck and gives a gentle squeeze all the way around as the microwave beeps, shushing the grumble of annoyance that Keith makes as his hand leaves his hair. “I'm just getting your food, whiner.” Keith continues to make disgruntled noises into the counter as Matt pads over and back with the food, unable to help the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he eyes the grouchy mop of hair fondly. “Here, eat up, menace.”

The mop lifts and one eye pokes out, surveying the plate before his arm uncoils from beneath his head and clumsily scrapes noodles into his half exposed mouth. Matt settles down next to him, hand gravitating back to the mop of hair to pet as Keith slurps and hums contentedly. He's going to miss this easy familiarity, the physical comfort they share now... not that Shiro has said anything about it, but Matt knows that he'd always wonder just a little bit if everything stayed as it is. He and Keith had never bothered to talk about what would happen if Shiro ever pulled his head out of his ass – not really anyway – it had always been a pipe dream, something that stung so much even to consider that Keith shut the conversation down each time... but Matt knows those two would never be anything but all in, 100% devoted and monogamous once they finally realize how crazy in love they both are.

And honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way. The thought of becoming the catalyst for future mistrust makes him sick, even if he is willing to needle Shiro over his and Keith's history when he's being a prick. Sitting here watching Keith melt sleepily into his touch is a reminder just how unguarded he keeps his heart, a 'handle with care' tag that gets ignored by nearly everyone who doesn't bother to look past his prickly exterior. It solidifies Matt's resolve even further to make sure Keith makes it out of this unscathed... he'd rather go through with the whole thing and let Shiro have his long term wooing than let him get hurt last minute in a confusing shit show that he thinks is a practical joke. He and Shiro have fucked up so many things in their lives, but Matt would burn down the entire city before watching Keith's face crumple in pain at what should be the happiest day of his life – they either need to pull this off perfectly or not at all, anything else is nonnegotiable.

The scrape of Keith's plate breaks Matt from his grim musings and he glance up from where his fingers tangle into dark hair to catch sight of Keith's curious stare.

“Penny for your thoughts?” His voice isn't quite as exhausted as it was a few minutes ago and a soft smile eases some of the tension on his face, but he still looks like a hot mess.

“Nothing important Kitten.” Matt digs in his fingertips with a playful wrinkle of his nose, pleased by the way Keith slumps forward with a breathy little whimper. “Just tired is all.”

“Mmm... how tired?” There's a playful edge to Keith's voice, a smirk on the corner of his lips as one eye cracks back open to glimmer up at him in mischief. “I could use a massage...”

Matt can't help the bark of laughter that escapes him, never ceasing to be amazed at Keith's ability to be a horny little shit at all times. He rolls his eyes at Keith's now wiggling eyebrows and slides an arm around his waist, hauling him in tight and off the stool to stumble down the hall to his bedroom. Keith is all but dead weight as he snickers and barely picks up his feet, letting Matt drag him through the door and lay him out on the bed. His grin is just shy of obnoxious as he wriggles and rolls onto his front, arms pillowed under his head.

“I'm ready Matty”

Matt sputters a laugh at the sheer sass in his pose, ass wiggling and back arched, still in a singed flight suit and smearing the day's filth all over Matt's clean sheets. “You are a menace.” The words come out muffled by the zipper in his teeth as he drags it down Keith's back, peeling off the canvas as Keith does as little as possible to help. He finally gets it over Keith's hips and off his arms before he's struck with the overpowering smell of boy. “Jesus, Kitten... a sweaty menace.”

Keith has the audacity to laugh, rolling over briefly to whip his shirt over his head and toss it on the floor before leaning down to shimmy his suit and boxers off. His cocky grin goes right to the simmer in Matt's gut when he flops back over. “You've got that flowery oil shit, don't you?” He wiggles his hips impatiently, fluffing the pillow as he eyes Matt's perch at the end of the bed. “Get to lubing, stud.”

“Someone's pushy today.” Matt teases as he reaches over to his dresser to grab the massage oil he'd bought after Keith came back a happy puddle - unaware he'd be resigning himself to the role of love slave for the immediate future. Keith grunts in return, eyes slipping closed as Matt rubs his hands together with slick sounds, warming up the oil before smoothing it over the planes of Keith's back. To be fair, he definitely gets as much out of this as Keith does – the man is fucking hot and just the feel of those lean muscles jumping and melting under his hands is enough to make him ache... not to mention the after party.

Keith's cocky facade melts away with the rest of the tension in his body as Matt's hands slide up his back, thumbs pressing on either side of his spine and fingers grazing sensitive spots on his ribs. He can't help the shaky moans that come out on each exhale as a day's worth of bullshit is worked out and replaced with a flood of molten gold in his veins. Matt's got great fucking hands – lithe fingers that work in little circles before trailing down to massage along the crease of his inner thighs. They both know that Keith's favorite part isn't the knuckles digging into his shoulders, not when those same knuckles trace the cleft of his ass before fingers unfurl and thumbs slide between his cheeks, kneading at the bottom while careful teeth sink into the meat there. Deep breaths give way to hitched gasps as his hips begin to roll down, seeking friction against the sheets as Matt straddles a thigh and works his way lower, not finishing what he started quite yet. It's enough to drive someone to madness.

He can feel the slick drag of Matt's cock against his calf as he rubs oil into the back of his legs, can feel the press of a firm chest against his ass as Matt leans down to suck a mark onto his inner thigh... by the time Matt has shifted to the opposite leg and worked his way back up Keith is a trembling mess beneath him, precum pooling beneath his hip as Matt's clever fingers work in those maddening little circles, ever higher until his knuckles are grazing his balls again. Both hands pause at the bottom of his ass, thumbs tracing the crease there, pulling apart just enough to feel it before letting go over and over. It's the best kind of torture, amplified by the way Matt leans down to drag the tip of his tongue along the inside of his thigh, leaving goosebumps as long hair tickles behind it. Keith can't suppress a shudder when sharp canines sink into the skin there, welt blooming in their wake as Matt pulls off with a pop and murmurs a kiss against his inner thigh.

“Turn over for me Kitten.”

Rolling languidly, Keith complies. It's not uncommon for Matt to offer to work on his front, but not often when he's this worked up. Keith can feel his cock throbbing against him now as Matt throws a leg over his hips and rolls them together before settling his hands on Keith's pecs to thumb at his nipples. It sends a shock straight to his own groin and he whimpers, pushing up into the touch as Matt squeezes the muscles there and continues to rub his thumbs over the peaking nubs. Slowly Matt leans down, holding Keith's hazy gaze as he opens his mouth and laps little kitten licks over them before closing his lips and sucking hard. The feeling wrenches a gasp from Keith's throat as his back bows – only to be caged at the ribs by those long fingers as Matt closes his eyes and suckles in earnest, rolling his hot length against Keith's and whimpering low in his throat. Keith can barely breathe, his entire being now a live wire being plucked by the man on top of him. He can feel the pleasure cresting in his gut, the boiling heat flooding his veins as his legs begin to shake.

“God- Matt...” He chokes out, hand tangling in his loose hair as Matt switches to the other side and bites. “Fuck, if you don't stop I'm gonna-”

Matt pulls off with a wet pop and wicked grin, lips cherry red and wet as his eyes flash. “Paint me white, Kitten.” He reaches down between them and pulls over slick flesh, thumb rolling over Keith's drooling head as he ruts against his hip. “You've got more than one in you tonight.”

That's all it takes to send Keith over the edge, back arched and spasming as he splashes their abdomens in his release with a shout. Matt doesn't let up, stroking him through it to the point of over sensitivity, even as Keith's thighs come up around him to crush his ribs. “Fuck – Matt I can't-” Matt's free hand swipes up the cum from his stomach, smearing it together with the oil still dripping from his hands, and reaches back to slide a finger into Keith's spasming hole, ripping another cry from his throat. The ache in his ribs only drives him harder, wanting Keith to leave a ring of bruises around him to remember him in this moment, flushed red and writhing underneath him as Matt ruins him from both sides.

“Kitten you look so pretty like this...” Matt coos, thumbing at his foreskin and rubbing the inside of his walls. “All strung out just for me, your pretty cock still hard like you can't get enough...”

“Matt, please-” Keith chokes out, tears gathering at the corners of his lashes as he heaves panting breaths. There's fire in his veins, burning him alive as he struggles to keep hold of his sanity, unsure what he's even asking for at this point.

“You want a break, Kitten?” The hand on his cock loosens and he whimpers in both relief and desperation. He can feel Matt moving down his body, the fingers inside him shifting as Matt throws his legs to the side and crawls back, but his vision is too clouded by tears to make out details – until a hot mouth engulfs his cock and swallows him down. His own throat aches as a scream tears from his chest, hips lurching as fingers hook inside him. Matt gags and pulls back with a cough and a grin, laughing as Keith scrabbles uselessly at his hair. “I guess not.” Ducking back down, Matt braces a forearm across Keith's hips and sinks until his nose is buried in a cum-splattered belly button, throat working around him as he struggles not to pull back.

Keith is sobbing under him, toes curled into the sheets, one hand fisted into Matt's hair and the other into his own as his entire body spasms in over sensitivity. He can't hear anything but the roar of blood in his ears, can't feel anything but that hot mouth and those clever fingers pounding dual sensations of pleasure through him... can't even breathe in anything that isn't a stuttered moan as every muscle in his abdomen ripples in waves of pleasure. Spots dance in his vision, unsure if his eyes are open or closed, just that they're spilling tears down his cheeks. It's too much.

It's not enough.

“Fuck – FUCK, Matt I need-”

His head thrashes to the side as another finger slides in and spreads, pulling him open as Matt's mouth slides off in increments. He can feel the hot breath washing over the head still as Matt pants, throat raw as he chuckles at the wreck of a man under him. “What do you need, sweetheart?” He crooks his fingers again, aim spot on as he sends Keith's whole body convulsing in pleasure. “Another finger?” The whine that rips from Keith's throat makes Matt dribble more onto the sheets under him, painfully hard as he watches that dark mop of hair shake frantically. “No?” He spreads them further, scissoring Keith open before pulling back in increments, leaving him aching and empty as they slide out entirely. “Something bigger maybe?”

“Fucking. Asshole.” Keith gasps out, white knuckle grip in the sheets as his chest heaves.

Matt clicks his tongue and leans down, pressing a kiss to his puffy rim, earning himself a breathy gasp before crawling up that lean body to caress his face. “Now Kitten, is that any way to ask?” Keith's answering growl is lost in his mouth as he swoops down to capture his lips, tongue delving in to tangle with Keith's as he lazily ruts between slick ass cheeks. It's dizzyingly at odds with the tender way he brushes sweat slick hair from Keith's forehead, thumb stroking his flushed cheekbones. “I want to be good for you, if you'll be good for me.”

Keith whimpers, straining up into another kiss, sweeter this time as he releases the sheets and runs his hands through Matt's hair and down his back. He pulls away in a slow slide, still connected by glistening strands as he meets Matt's eyes, panting sweetly. “Please, Matty...” His answer is a groan as Matt drops his head to Keith's collarbone, pressing an open mouthed kiss there and reaching down between them to line himself up. The first roll of his hips nudges the head of his cock against where Keith is wet and open, drawing a whine from both of them... the second is a steady breach as Keith's heat envelopes him, and Matt feels his soul ascend. Thick thighs spasms around him again as he rocks his hips in a little at a time, drawing punched out mewls from Keith with every drag until they're flush together. Matt takes the moment to breathe, burying his nose in Keith's neck and inhaling deeply as trembling hands comb through his hair – it's almost soothing, until those same hands fist into his bangs, hauling his head up to meet an almost feral glare above bared teeth. “ _Move._ ”

And who is Matt to protest when those muscles are rippling around him, desperate to milk out every drop he has to give? Tilting his head up, he presses a gentle kiss onto the long column of exposed throat, then stretches up, hips rolling inward as he dusts another across the freckled bridge of a nose. “Anything for you, Kitten.” A shaky exhale urges him on as he braces himself on his forearms and drags his hips back, fighting the clench of Keith's body every inch of the way. Pausing with just the head of his cock inside, he leans back to watch Keith's muscles twitch around him as he drags a finger around where they're joined.... he can only imagine what it must look like just beyond that rim, stretched wide and pulling back the skin there as he dribbles into Keith's waiting heat, slicking up the inside even further to sate the fire in Keith's veins. The thought alone is enough to send heat flaring through his gut, ready to fill Keith entirely just to watch it pour out of him, waiting to be licked clean again.

The desperate groan above him drags his attention back to his mission, and the man currently reaching to wrap a hand around his nearly purple shaft. It takes no effort at all to lift one arm and bat his hand away, ignoring the whimper as he wraps his own around the base. He can feel Keith's pulse pounding, making the vein throb and jump underneath his palm as he dribbles over Matt's knuckles. The thighs around his waist fall away as Keith scrabbles his heels futilely against the sheets, trying to get leverage to push his hips back up, and Matt takes the opportunity to shift onto his knees, letting go of Keith's length in favor of dragging him bodily upward until he's seated balls deep in Matt's lap.

He's an absolute vision as he keens, back arched and arms splayed as his hair fans out in a dark halo around him. Rosy nipples stand starkly against his heaving chest, twin points among the smattering of love bites trailing down his collarbone. His neglected cock rests against his abs in a puddle of his own making, bobbing as his hips roll in a frantic attempt to get deeper, closer. It's the kind of picture that would sell for thousands, but it's all for Matt tonight, and he's going to sear it into his memory.

The keen turns to whimpers again and Matt takes pity on him, digging his fingers into those muscled hips and rolling in a slow rhythm that just grazes where he knows Keith needs it most on each push in. “You look so good stretched around me, sweetheart...” He pants, eyes glued to where he's spearing Keith open. “Your pretty little hole is so greedy isn't it? I bet you can't get enough.” Keith whines incoherently underneath him, blissed out and uncaring as long as Matt doesn't stop moving – pliant enough that he doesn't even notice the first press of a slick fingertip against his hole. “I bet you could take more, couldn't you?” The fingertip nudges more insistently, pushing slowly as Matt drags slim hips back onto his cock. “I bet you'll be begging me for more.” Keith nods frantically at the word 'more' and hooks his heels behind Matt's knees, leveraging himself onto the intrusion enough that it sinks in without further resistance, punching the breath from Matt's chest. “Holy fuck, Kitten....”

“More, please!” Keith rolls in earnest now, freshly aware of his own strength, forcing Matt to fuck into him harder. The stretch inside him is edged with a just a sliver of delicious burn, but it's not enough to do anything except stoke the flames licking under his skin. Matt seems to get the idea, pulling back and wrapping his free hand under Keith's hips, spreading his knees and picking up his pace until he's pounding into a wailing Keith. His poor cock is bouncing now, slapping back into hard abs with every thrust - almost violently red as it leaks unceasingly between them, getting just a kiss of the friction it needs. Matt can tell Keith's getting close by the flush spreading down his chest and the way his breathing has become a mantra of hiccuped sobs and Matt's name. The simmering feeling in his own gut draws tighter with every gasping moan and he slides his finger out, slowing into a grind as Keith clenches around him in protest. Dark eyes fly open in delirious outrage. “Wha-?”

Matt shushes him, rubbing a hand down his flank as he pulls out, letting Keith's legs drop from around his knees. “Wanna feel all of you, Kitten.” He leans up and slips a hand under Keith's shoulders, pulling him flush to his own chest before rolling them over. Keith blinks at him, dazed and hypersensitive as he ruts against Matt's hip, reaching one hand back to slide his own fingers into his open hole. Matt gazes up at him fondly and rubs circles into Keith's hip bones as he helps him sit up. “You're so fucking pretty,” The words escape him like a breath, probably too honest for this moment, but Matt's never been one to be ungrateful for what they've had. The flush darkens on those high cheekbones as Keith ducks his head with a laugh that hitches halfway as he rides his fingers.

“Pretty enough to get your dick back in me?” The look in his eyes is equal parts desperate and teasing as a grin curls around the edges of his open-mouthed panting. “Cause I'm about to die without it.”

Matt matches his grin and reaches to twist their messy fingers together, guiding himself back inside as Keith sinks onto him even deeper than before. The first grind steals Matt's breath, then Keith's own as he lifts and rolls, chasing the friction deep inside. Their joined hands settle on Keith's hip as Matt fucks up into him slowly, unwilling to take his eyes off the sinuous motion of Keith's body for even a second. He can tell by the change in pitch when they find Keith's prostate again, moans going breathy as eyelashes flutter shut... from there it's only a matter of time - even as they roll languidly together Matt can tell that Keith isn't going to last much longer, but he's been such a good boy so far.

“Kitten, eyes on me.” The steel in Matt's tone has those dark eyes flying open and locking onto his gaze as bitten red lips fall open again. The hand not tangled with Keith's own reaches up to wrap around him, finally granting the friction craved and pulling a cry from Keith's chest as he jerks up into the pressure.

“Matt, please!” The broken tone stokes something in Matt's chest and he grins wickedly up at him, thumb sliding over Keith's slit as he twists his wrist.

“You gonna come for me again?” Matt hardly recognizes his own voice as it rumbles through him, punctuated by the slap of skin on skin as he fucks up into Keith hard enough to make his head loll to the side. “Gonna let the neighbors hear who's got you sobbing on their cock?”

“Oh fuck – oh fuuu- Matt!” Keith's voice is nothing more than a hoarse shout as he clamps down, trembling through his release and painting Matt's chest as their fingers crush together. The sight alone drags Matt over the edge, pulsing deep inside to mark his walls as Keith collapses on top of him.

It's a moment or two before he gathers himself enough to run a hand through sweaty hair and down a still trembling back. The knuckles in their clasped hands ache from the force of Keith's grip, but slide apart loosely now as Matt brings his up to rub against Keith's hip.

“You okay, Kitten?” The words are low and rough as they ghost across Keith's ear, pulling a soft smile to his face that he hides in Matt's equally sweaty collarbone. He's not quite ready for words, still shaking with the aftershocks zinging up his spine, so he nods into Matt's armpit and curls his arms up to hook under Matt's shoulders. It's enough of a confirmation for Matt, who takes the opportunity to loop his arms around Keith's waist loosely and settle his nose into the crown of his head.

This is the moment he'll savor more than anything, knowing it's the last time.

This is the moment he knows Keith will enjoy so much more in another man's arms.

Thumbing down the ridges of a now loose spine, he hums into the mess of hair. “Hey Keith?” A returning hum into his armpit is acknowledgment enough, and he wonders if Keith can feel the way he sucks in a nervous breathe beneath him. “You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right?” The hum is confused this time, still hazy in the fog of his afterglow and maybe a touch disgruntled at the stupid question. It makes a smile tug at Matt's lips as he clarifies. “With this whole wedding thing... I'd never let you get hurt.”

That's enough to move the mop as Keith lifts his head enough to dig his pointy chin into Matt's sternum, brows drawn together in confused annoyance. “What are you babbling about?”

“Ouch.” Matt deadpans out of habit, fingers tightening on Keith's back as dark eyes narrow. “I just mean... there might be surprises at the wedding, but I promise it's only good stuff.”

The pointy chin dislodges itself as Keith lets his head flop to the side, cheek resting on Matt's heart now as it thunders beneath him. “What kind of surprises?”

Matt chuckles nervously, shrugging underneath the weight of Keith's gaze. “If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise, duh.” The answering scoff ruffles the hair in his face and Matt blows at the hair curling around Keith's in retaliation. It earns him a laugh, but Keith is still eyeing him skeptically. “Really though, I promise it's only something you want... I swear.” He unloops one arm and holds out his pinky, like old times.

“You swear huh?” Keith lets his head flop to the other side, tapping his fingers against Matt's ribs as he considers – then one arm slides out from underneath Matt's shoulder and he hooks their pinkies together. “I guess I can trust you this time.”

The blinding smile that breaks out over Matt's face is almost starling as he crushes Keith to his sticky chest and buries his face in his hair. “You can trust me any time, Kitten.”

Nuzzling back into his neck, Keith nods, starting to doze off despite the mess he'll have to deal with in the morning. “I know.”

He can't help but think, as sleep pulls him under, that the kiss Matt presses into his hair feels oddly like goodbye...

 


	14. Chapter 14

Sitting across from an old woman who barely comes up to his armpit shouldn't be as intimidating to Keith as it is, but Shiro's grandmother has always had that way of staring eerily through a person, like she can see into their soul.

Shiro says it's just the cataracts, but Keith's pretty sure it's the grandmother witchcraft.

With just a day to the wedding, her time here is drawing short and she's been nagging Shiro to get his 'nice young gentleman friend' to see her, but between appointments and work he hadn't made it until today since, in lieu of a rehearsal dinner, he and Matt had decided to take the day before the wedding off as a much needed free day, which meant tinkering for Matt and lunch with Obaasan for Keith. It's been years since he's seen her, not since the last time he took a trip with Shiro to visit nearly a decade ago, but it didn't stop her from immediately jabbing a finger into his ribs and demanding they go eat to fatten him up.

He's on his third bowl of noodles as she picks at her dumplings across the table, pulling tiny pieces off and trying to sneak them onto his plate every time he looks away. If he eats any more he might actually die or have to get his suit refitted, but the throaty chortles that she lets out every time he takes another bite make him pick up the fork again – a little gastrointestinal distress is worth every crinkly-eyed smile.

Even if hers is perpetually full of mischief today...

“So, Little Cat, I hear you are to be a wedded man tomorrow.”

Keith closes his eyes and slurps, imagining a world where he could teleport himself away from this conversation. Nothing good has ever come from her using that nickname, cheekily adopted after Matt had called him Kitten in her presence, and he has the itchy feeling that nothing ever will – especially not with that teasing tone.

“Here I thought my Takashi would be the one to ask!”

Nothing. Good.

Keith sighs and sets down the fork, offering her a weak smile to go with the half shrug that struggles against the sudden slump of his shoulders. “You always were the crazy one, Baba.”

“Hmph.” Her eyes don't stop their glittering as she slides another piece of dumpling over. “How could I know he'd make his friend do it?” She grunts, head shaking as she lifts a hand to the sky. “I had such hopes for him, always so brave...” The hand drops and a grin curls across her mouth, eyes cutting slyly over to where Keith is trying to turn inside out. “Except when it came to you.”

Her piercing gaze definitely isn't just the cataracts this time as she tries to wiggle her eyebrows at him. Keith groans theatrically and thumps his head onto the table, rolling it to give her an exaggerated pout from beside his bowl. “Baba, you promised you would be nice to me when I agreed to grandma-sit you...”

The hoarse laugh that bursts out of her can only be described as a cackle.

“I am sorry, Little Cat.” One wrinkly hand reaches to pat Keith's own where it lays flopped on the table. “I cannot resist such easy prey – it turns you both such a shade of pink!” Her wheezy sigh is entirely too self satisfied as she leans back to sip her tea, smirk never leaving her lips. “Besides, this old lady has waited far too long for this day, you cannot begrudge me my fun.”

Grunting again, Keith rolls his head stubbornly to the other side, exposing the flowery imprint of the table cloth on his cheek and drawing another round of laughter. His eyebrows pull together of their own accord as his pout attempts to become permanent. “I don't see why my wedding is so funny...” Keith grumbles, trying to shoot her a sidelong look before giving up and mouthing at a bread roll just out of reach. “Go make fun of Shiro when he gets married.”

“Oho - don't worry, I have been!” Her cheery exclamation catches Keith's attention, pausing his efforts as he rolls back to look at her.

“What do you mean, have been? Shiro's getting married?”

Obaasan's chuckles die down as she cocks her head at him, blinking owlishly at his bewildered expression. “Little Cat... did you bump your head this morning?” Her tiny hand reaches across the table and presses against his forehead, moving from place to place as she hums at him with a critical look. “You don't feel sick...”

“I'm fine.” Keith huffs but doesn't jerk away from the touch. “Are _you_ going senile?”

She scowls at him then, the caress turning into a swat at the back of his head as he sticks his tongue out. “Here I thought I was gaining another respectful young grandson, but you're just as bad as my Takashi.” A wink and playful cluck of her tongue soften the words, but Keith can't help but stare at her like she's got three heads as his face slowly goes pale. The wrinkled hand finds it's way back to his cheek as her face pulls in concern. “Keith? I am only teasing... I will be glad to see you and my grandson together after hoping for so long.”

“Baba...” Keith chokes out, shaking his head as his brain and mouth refuse to work together. “Shiro and I aren't getting married tomorrow... Matt and I are.”

“Mmm, no.” She shakes her head, a funny little smile in place like Keith is still eighteen and scuffing his shoes at her doorstep. “Matthew told me all about your little joke and how he planned this whole wedding for you and my Takashi.” Reaching out again, she boops his nose with a grin and a twinkle in her eyes. “Sorry to spoil your joke, Little Cat, but Takashi spoiled it over tea last night with his rosy cheeks.” She sighs happily, staring off into the distance as only a proud grandmother can, completely ignoring the impending mental breakdown in front of her. “He turned so pink, but he was so happy... Takashi has loved you for years you know, we are so glad you finally agreed to join the family.”

“Ah.” The word rasps out through his sandpaper throat as Keith stares blankly at the flowery wallpaper. “Yeah, you got me.” She's still staring at him as he shifts his gaze to her cheerfully expectant face - and he'd rather chew his arm off than disappoint her. “Surprise?”

Satisfied, she leans back and nods emphatically, sipping her tea between chortles. “It wasn't much of one, dear.” Shaking her head, she closes her eyes as a smile spreads over her face. “Anyone with eyes and a heart that has known love could see this coming years ago.” The weathered hand steals back over to ruffle through his hair. “I remember Shiro's grandfather being just the same fool in love... some things never change.”

The lump in his throat nearly chokes Keith as he gives her a weak smile. “Yeah, Shiro's the best... honest to a fault.” One eye cracks open at his strangled tone, but if she notices that the words come out through clenched teeth she lets it slide. If it wouldn't give her a heart attack he'd probably be on his way to murder his two favorite idiots right this moment. “What else did they have to say Baba?”

“Ooho! Wouldn't you like to know...” She shoots him the world's most lecherous wink along with a waggle of her eyebrows as she settles back into the cushions and cups her hands around the steaming mug. “Well you know those two... I caught wind of your whole silly game way back when Matthew first called me up...”

The smile that Keith plasters on isn't even fake as he listens to Obaasan spill the beans, perfectly content to spend the last moments before his impending prison stint sipping tea in her company.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, short, just like mee...


	15. Chapter 15

It takes a disappointingly long time for Keith to come storming into the hotel room, cheeks flushed and scowling as he shakes a finger at her. After all the years of being her son, Krolia had thought his instincts would be keener than this.

“Did you know about all of this bullshit?!”

Krolia's placid smile doesn't even twitch as she continues picking apart a granola bar. She'd heard him stomping across the parking lot, gravel crunching under his boots in his distinctive stride, and had scrambled to the table just to get the perfect unaffected pose ready. “Ah, hello to you too son.”

His responding attempt at a growl is adorable.

The door slams shut as he knocks his heel into it, refusing to flinch as she lifts one cool eyebrow in his direction, remembering the teenage lectures as he barrels on. “The wedding. Did you know they're switching? Is this some sort of joke?” Keith's voice wavers on the last word, accompanied by a flash of insecurity he tries to bury underneath the furrow of his brows. “Cause it's pretty fucked up.”

“Do you think I'd let that happen without your knowledge?” Her tone isn't unkind, only curious as she offers him a half smile and taps the other chair with her foot. “Here, have a seat. You'll feel better.”

“I don't need a seat, I need to figure out what the fuck is going on before those two assholes feed me to the wolves tomorrow in front of everyone we know!”

Krolia waits for him to finish foaming at the mouth before she cocks her head at him. His chest is heaving to match his red face, but the fire in his eyes begins to dim to a smolder as she continues to chew dispassionately. “Do you feel better?” She taps the chair again, with a little more intent this time. “Sit, son.”

Keith deflates like a balloon, slumping into the chair and dropping his face into his hands. “I don't even know what's going on anymore Mom...” His voice wavers as he trails off with a ragged sigh.

“Well, it's fortunate that I do, isn't it?”

Her face is the picture of maternal amusement as he snaps his head up, eyes narrowed and hackles raised. “Oh great, so you're in on it now too?” He slaps his hands to his thighs as a sneer creeps across his face. “That's just perfect isn't it? Everyone in my life is just here to fuck me over.”

Lurching to his feet, Keith decides a dramatic exit and subsequent lifestyle as a hermit is the best option here, now that everyone around him is on his shit list.

Krolia decides otherwise as she darts a hand out and yanks him back into the chair by his wrist, one eyebrow raised at his display of temper. “Are you done being dramatic?” He very nearly bears his teeth in frustration, pulling his arm back, but her grip is iron as she stares him down. “Do you really think I'd do that to you – that any of us would hurt you like that?”

His expression is still mulish as he stops his efforts to pull away, sinking petulantly into the chair instead. “Well what am I supposed to think? It's the day before the wedding and apparently everyone but me knew it wasn't even to the right groom...”

“Did you really not know?” She cocks her head the other way and studies him, gaze searching as he fidgets angrily in the chair. “If this was supposed to be a secret I'm disappointed by their lack of subterfuge... initially I had assumed Matthew had informed you from the start, but I have to say I'm concerned it took you this long to realize.”

Sputtering, Keith glares up at her from under his bangs, arms crossed like he used to do when he was a child. “How was I supposed to know?!”

Pausing mid chew, Krolia peers up at him in disbelief. “Keith, your honeymoon is scheduled with Shiro.”

“It was convenient to plan the time off that way!”

Her jaw drops slowly, eyebrows inching to her hairline. “Your wedding is planned at 'your spot' with Shiro.” The air quotes are just insult to injury.

“Matt picked the site!” Keith's voice creeps up an octave as he flails his hands upward. “I thought it was weird too!”

“Oh sweetheart...” She shakes her head and reaches out clasp Keith's hand. “Even after the couple's spa Matthew told me about? After Shiro's... what did he call it? Wooing efforts?” She gives him a pitying smile, the kind she reserves for especially slow cadets. “Even your suits were coordinated, they sent me all the pictures...”

Keith can't help but rankle under the look, determined to be more pissed than hurt at this point. “Okay fine, so the whole thing was a little shifty... but why wouldn't I take them at face value? Matt and I have joked about this for like a decade – Shiro never even indicated interest until like two weeks ago!”

The braying laugh he gets in return sprays crumbs onto him.

“Oh sweet child...” Krolia cackles, trying to cover her mouth after the initial unstoppable spew of half-chewed granola. “That boy has been gone on you for so long – every time I come home to see you he's hovering around like a puppy trying his best to impress.” Shaking her head, she swipes tears of laughter from her eyes, only to burst into cackles again at Keith's affronted face.

“He does not!” His pout is audible as he slumps back into the chair. “Shiro is too cool to follow anyone around – and we've been best friends for ages, of course he's going to be polite to you.”

Lips pursed with barely restrained mirth, his mother nods at him condescendingly. “You're right, it's been entirely platonic this whole time, my mistake.” Her mouth wobbles again as Keith grumbles at her suspiciously, but self control can only take her so far... “That's why he's jumping at the chance to marry his best 'bro', right?”

“Moooom!” Keith whines as she bursts into laughter again. “This isn't funny! What am I supposed to do now?”

Still snickering, she shrugs at him like it's obvious. “Well, you marry Shiro – isn't that what you wanted this whole time?”

He can feel the blush cover his face in less than a second and curses himself for confiding in her in the first place. “That's not the point!” Scrubbing his face helplessly, he shoots her a pained look. “I wanted it to be real... not whatever this is.”

The look he gets in return could flatten a building.

“Well it's going to be legally binding and he's fought your other friend for the honor of it... what more would you like him to do?”

“Oh gee, I dunno!” Keith hisses, throwing his hands into the air. “Maybe tell me he loves me, or at least say he wants to marry me instead of doing whatever the fuck this garbage is.”

Krolia concedes the point with a nod. “That would be ideal, yes... but those two do seem to be making an effort, don't they?”

“This isn't an effort!” Keith squawks, “This is a set-up! I might as well be on a shitty reality show!” He huffs and throws a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “Aren't you supposed to be on my side?”

“I'm always on your side.” His mother pats his knee gently. “From what Matthew told me, your Shiro is quite serious about this wedding.” She squeezes, waiting for him to look up and catch her eye before continuing. “But that doesn't matter to me if it doesn't matter to you... just say the word and I'll have them both assassinated.” Keith can't help the huff of laughter that escapes as she smirks at him, flipping open her phone and hovering her finger over the keypad. “We could even let you get a little 'enhanced interrogation' in if you want – maybe string them up by their toes... what do you say?”

“Aww, come on Mom...” A smile creeps across his face against his will as she reaches up to ruffle his hair. “You always know just how to make me feel better.” He swats at her hand as she hums in agreement before giving her a sly look. “Maybe just a little prodding with a taser?”

“Done.” She nods briskly with a wink. “Let me know if you change your mind about the kneecapping.”

“Heh, of course... thanks Mom.” Keith's smile is almost shy now, and a little sheepish after coming over just to yell at her. “I'm sorry I thought you... well.” He shrugs, not sure how to finish the sentence, but she understands. She always does.

“It's okay, sweetheart... I can imagine it's been a rough day.” Her eyes are sympathetic and it cracks a little more of the shell of anger holding in his hurt. “Do you still want to go through with it?”

“I... I mean...” He heaves a sigh and scoots his chair closer to hers until he can tip his head onto her shoulder, nuzzling in when she wraps her arms around him. “I've always wanted this... but now that it's here I'm afraid that he's not serious.” Choking up a little, he buries his face into her shirt. “I don't think I could handle it if Shiro thinks this is the same kind of joke Matt and I had planned.”

A warm palm cups the back of his head, thumb stroking as his mother presses a kiss to his hair. “Do you think they would do that to you? Matthew knows you love Shiro – do you think he would let you get hurt like that?”

“Never.” Keith blurts it out without even thinking, brows furrowing at the idea. Matt had been there for him through so much, had watched him cry and celebrated with him through all the ups and downs of Keith's pathetic love life - the thought of him intentionally causing this kind of pain is just... wrong - but the fact remains that he had been lying this entire time, planning Keith's honeymoon to another man and making him go to a romantic spa under the guise of bro-time. Matt had pushed Keith toward Shiro the entire time...even up to just the other night when he held Keith so tenderly, kissed him like it was the last time and- “Oh shit.”

Krolia cocks her head at him as he turns to stare at her wide-eyed. “Holy shit, that fucking prick.” He can't help the tears trying to spring up in his eyes as he half laughs and half sobs. “That fucking asshole was playing both sides this entire time?”

“Yeeees?” Krolia furrows her brows at him, confused as she continues to pet his head. “Of course he was – what did you think he was doing?”

“I don't know!” Keith hiccups a laugh. “Being a professional Holt?” He shrugs against her, confused relief bubbling through him. “I thought he was just trying to get under Shiro's skin because he always jokes that I love him more.”

“Oh Keith...” She sighs into his hair, staring at the wall and wondering not for the first time if it's her fault that her son finds it so hard to believe that he is loved.

“God, how did I miss this?” His tone is rife with disbelief as he mentally kicks himself.

Her own mouth curls in response as she flicks him on the nose. “Willful ignorance I would assume – you've always been good at that.”

He shakes his head, not bothering to deny it as he blows out a breath. “Don't get me wrong, I'm still furious... I don't even know how the hell they were planning on pulling this off.” He grumbles, mouth pulling to the side. “But if they're serious... if this is real...”

Entertaining the possibility of marrying Shiro in earnest for the first time is too overwhelming to verbalize, but his mother's eye soften all the same. She knows he's wanted this for so long...

Krolia's fingers tighten in his hair as he lets out another shaky breath into her shoulder. “So I get to walk my favorite child down the aisle tomorrow?” She tries to keep her tone playful, but the idea sparks warmth blooming in her chest.

“I...” Keith starts, then falters, swallowing hard. “I think so...” He trails off, pulling back from their embrace to meet her eyes firmly. “But we're going to do it on my terms.”

Her answering grin is razor sharp, and its twin blooms across his face as she stretches out a pinky to meet his own.

“Deal.”

 


	16. The End <3

The morning of Matthew Holt's potential demise is gorgeous. There's a bird chirping outside his window as the breeze billows the curtain inward, wafting in the sweet scent of the blossoms on the tree outside - by all accounts it's a good omen for things to come, perhaps incoming marital bliss... or the cessation of the indigestion he's had for the last week.

He's hoping for the latter, but judging by the puddle of cold sweat he's lying in, he might not want to get his hopes too high.

It's been a hell of a week trying to figure out the least awful way to do this whole groom swap thing without shoving Shiro into a cake and having him burst out at the last second as a surprise... and even that is better than half of the things they had tried to brainstorm. Shiro seems perfectly at ease with the whole no plan thing, newly confident that he and Keith are some kind of star crossed lovers that are meant to be together... and that everything will just magically work out – like Matt hadn't needed to lie and scheme and plot to get them this far... probably because it's Matt's head in the cross hairs if anything goes terribly wrong. He had a pants-shittingly terrifying conversation with Krolia over the phone where he had attempted to stammer out a reasonable explanation for the entire thing, and the madwoman had laughed – _laughed –_ before wishing him good luck and hanging up with the reminder that she does in fact know at least twenty ways to kill a man with her bare hands.

Like he needed the reminder.

But of course Shiro hadn't been on the receiving end of the threats from the world's scariest MILF – he'd been busy cavorting around with his grandmother, gushing about how much he loves Keith and how this was his dream come true while they sipped tea in the sun... like Matt hadn't already told Baba the whole story months ago when he bought her the plane tickets. At least she's a woman who knows the value of keeping a secret...

At this point he's really just hoping that Krolia makes it quick, and maybe crushes him to death with her thighs so he can be happy in the afterlife.

Maybe if he just stays in bed and pretends he has already died this whole thing will just blow over...

But of course, nothing in his life has ever been that easy, not when Shiro is there to stroll into his room without knocking, whistling up a storm and interrupting his existential crisis.

“Goooood morning, Matt!” Shiro rips the covers off him, ignoring the pained whimper as Matt curls into fetal position, and plops himself down against his back. “Isn't it a beautiful day?” Leaning over so he's right in Matt's face, Shiro beams down at him. “I couldn't have wished for anything more perfect, and it's all thanks to you... I love you, man.”

Matt blinks at him, trying to project himself into another dimension.

It doesn't work.

“Uuuuughhh.”

Shiro nods easily as he pats Matt's shoulder. “I know, I'm excited too.” The pat turns into one of his patented motivational shoulder squeezes as he hauls himself to his feet. “We better get a move on if we want today to go perfectly – I'll make breakfast!”

Matt lays there another moment, contemplating letting Shiro burn the apartment down in his attempt, but ultimately decides he'd rather die by Krolia's hands and rolls out of bed to face his imminent demise.

Shiro is staring at a package of bacon in consternation as he readies a pot on the stove when Matt stumbles in, and he still almost turns right around to go smother himself in his pillows.

“Shiro... you can't cook bacon in that.” Matt grunts as he drags himself to the coffee pot, determined to drown himself or drink enough to destroy his intestines before the ceremony. “You need the shallow one.”

Shiro shrugs in response, still whistling as he cheerfully pours oil into it anyway. “Looks fine to me, a pot's a pot, right?”

Matt lets his head thump onto the counter as he climbs onto the stool, not bothering to remind him that a pot and a pan are two different things.

Ten minutes later when Shiro is frantically wafting the smoke out the window to stop the blaring smoke alarm he still hasn't picked up his head. Somehow this feels like a more appropriate omen for the day than the birds and sunshine.

“I think... it's maybe still okay?” Shiro huffs, still flapping a towel over the stove as he peers down at the somehow both charred and oily bacon in the bottom of the pot. Matt politely ignores the scorch marks on the side, grunting in submission to the will of the universe as Shiro nods decisively. “It's probably for the best anyway, we don't want to eat a heavy breakfast on our big day.”

“Our big day...” Matt grumbles into the counter, wondering how hard he'd have to slam his skull into it to knock himself unconscious for twenty or so hours. “ _Your_ big day.” He rolls his head enough to scowl over at where Shiro is humming as he plates his charcoal sticks. “ _You_ are marrying Keith, somehow.”

The dreamy sigh that Shiro lets out is objectively disgusting.

“I'm marrying Keith today...”

Matt rolls his face back into the counter. “Too bad he doesn't know that yet, eh?”

Shiro's dopey grin twitches as he sets the plate down across from Matt, but his otherwise manic positivity stays firmly in place. “ _Yet_.” One of the bacon strips shatters as he bites into it, and Matt stares in transfixed horror as Shiro continues to chew happily. “I can't wait to hold him when this is finally all over and we can be together... husbands.”

Somehow Matt doubts that either of them are going to live long enough to see that reality. Despite his best efforts at tempering Shiro's expectations over the week, he has remained stubbornly optimistic that the power of love will prevail and they can just... casually inform Keith of the new plan right before they go live. Like normal people do that... like the Week of Great Wooing was enough to secure their safety and win Keith's undying love.

Of course, Shiro will make it out fine - he already has Keith's undying love... he's not the one who orchestrated a massive campaign of lies to conquer the kingdom of Liarville and sit on its throne... he just gets to enjoy the fruits of Matt “The Liar” Holt's labor after the crows pick apart his carcass – and that's if they're lucky and Keith doesn't freeze up on the spot, or burst into tears, or call the whole thing off, or-

Shiro's crunching interrupts his depressive spiral as flecks of charred bacon pelt Matt's forehead. “Want some?” He wiggles the strip in some pathetic attempt to make it enticing.

Matt rolls his head up enough to glare at him balefully. “No.” He doesn't want his stupid awful burned bacon, he wants to either go back in time and do this over or go forward in time to see if he survives.

Shiro shrugs, unperturbed. “Suit yourself... oh!” He straightens, poking Matt's forehead with the bacon stick. “Speaking of, I hung up our suits in the car already on those little handle things – don't want to forget anything for the ceremony!”

Matt wishes he could forget the entire ceremony... his only saving grace is that Keith spent the night in Krolia's hotel room after stopping by to grab his own nuptial supplies yesterday – citing some stupid 'bad luck' bullshit all tongue in cheek like he does. Shiro's eyes had nearly popped out of his head as Keith cupped Matt's cheek, pulling him into one sweet, lingering kiss and dropping another into his hair... but then he'd been suitably distracted immediately afterward by the sappy smile Keith had sent his way after hugging him goodbye. He hadn't even left six inches of room between their hips for Jesus - Shiro was red for an hour. At least with Keith gone Matt could have his crisis openly instead of pretending he wasn't about to panic-vomit all over his shoes.

He gets about two more hours of panicking in as he attempts to drown in the shower, suffocate himself with cologne, and ram his head through the wall. Of course Shiro mistakes it for knocking and cheerfully opens his door looking like he stepped straight out of a fashion magazine... at least Keith will have some eye candy as he mutilates Matt's corpse – it's what he deserves after all this.

The texts start rolling in on the drive to the venue, nothing too out of the ordinary at first – just Keith checking in, asking about their ETA, letting them know the tent for them to get ready in is all set up... because apparently he'd gotten there insanely early and he's.... excited to get married...

Oh god.

'You know Matty, I don't think I ever told you how much it means to me that you remembered our promise all these years.'

Oh god... no.

'I always thought I'd end up alone, but now that we'll be spending our lives together I know I'll always have someone I can count on to have my back.'

Oh fuck.

“ _Shiro._ ” The word comes out in such a strangled screech that Shiro jerks, swerving the car as he looks over at an ashen Matt. “We're so fucked!”

“What?” Shiro's voice is full Lieutenant mode when he glances between him and the road. “What's wrong Matt?”

“Keith!” Matt gurgles out, flailing the phone around. “He's all... grateful and sappy!”

Shiro's brow wrinkles as he stares at the road. “So? He's getting married.”

“ _To ME_ ” Matt hisses, slapping himself on the chest. “He doesn't fucking know yet, Sherlock!”

“Oh fuck.” Shiro's knuckles go white where they grip the steering wheel. “What did you say back?”

“Nothing!” His ponytail whips him in the face as he shakes his head frantically. “What do I say??”

Another text rolls in and they both stare at the notification like it's a bomb.

'I know you hate this sappy shit Matty, but I really wouldn't want to marry anyone else... thank you.'

The click of Shiro's throat is audible as he swallows in the sudden suffocating silence.

“...fuck.”

Matt just nods miserably, letting his head thunk against the window as he taps out a response.

'Glad to be of service Kitten, best friends forever – even when you decide to divorce me for Shiro ;)'

“There...” He tries to sound confident as he reads it to Shiro and taps the send button. “All fixed.”

The next buzz is immediate.

'Haha, your sense of humor is just the icing on the cake, fiance!'

Matt stares at it open mouthed for all of ten seconds before setting the phone down gently and clasping his hands in his lap.

“I'm screwed.”

Shiro looks equally miserable next to him now, slumped like a wilted flower, complete with trembling lower lip.

“You mean, we're screwed.”

Matt shakes his head, reaching over to pat Shiro's knee. “No buddy, I did this... he'll never know about your involvement if I can help it.”

Shiro doesn't look encouraged by the words, casting a pitiful glance in Matt's direction. “No, I'll just have to watch the love of my life marry another man happily.”

Oh. Right.

Matt sucks in a shaky breath and opens up another chat window.

'Plan is off, Keith is too invested, can't hurt him like that now... please forget everything I ever said. I'll treat him right... don't hurt me.'

The thumbs up emoji he receives just seconds later feels like a nail in his coffin.

 

Krolia slumps against his side, howling in laughter inside the little tent they set up as a changing station in the desert. Keith hadn't seen the need for it at first, insisting that he'd just drive there in whatever he needed, but Allura had insisted and now he is thoroughly grateful as he downs mimosas with his mother and wipes tears of laughter from his eyes, tapping out more heartfelt garbage.

“Oh! I know!” He grins and clinks his champagne flute into hers. “Let's send the next set to Shiro!”

Krolia throws her head back cackling and accepts the phone when he hands it her way. Her fingers fly over the keys as she narrates it out loud through her giggles.

“Shiro... I can't thank you enough for being my best man... it means so much to me... on my big day... you're the closest thing I've ever had... to a brother.” Then she wiggles her eyebrows at Keith's slumped form where he's choking on his tongue and sends the message as he gurgles.“Too much?”

Keith whips his head back and forth, laughing so hard he's starting to wheeze. “My brother?!” He chokes the word out, nearly heaving from the stomach cramps now. “Holy fuck mom, way to go straight to incest.”

She mimes a toast back at him and tosses the phone into his hands, downing her glass in one go.

“With any luck they'll show up properly panicked and we won't have to try to keep a straight face.”

He snatches the phone from mid air and chugs his glass as well, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and grinning back at her. “At this rate I wouldn't be surprised if they left me at the alter.”

Krolia snorts and shakes her head, wiggling her own phone. “No, the Holt is trying too hard to convince me to spare him to do that.”

“Ah.” Keith nods sagely. “He did always have a fear boner for you.”

She nods with a wicked grin. “As well he should, but it would be too much for any mortal to experience both mother and son.”

“Um.” Keith wrinkles his nose and side-eyes her hard as he pours another mimosa. “Ew?”

“Oh, is that thought not pleasant?” Her tone is overly innocent as she accepts the glass. “I was under the impression you were already calling him daddy.”

The spray of spit and mimosa that explodes from Keith's mouth to cover her is worth seeing his face.

“Please never say that again.” He gasps once he manages to stop coughing. “Neither of us have sex, okay?”

Rolling her eyes playfully, she nods in concession. “Fine, consider yourself the immaculate conception.”

Keith sniffs. “I always have.”

 

Even with the air conditioning on full blast Matt has sweat through his undershirt by the time they get to venue. He wishes it was the heat, but he can tell by the way it trickles down his knees and thighs that it's fear sweat – Krolia will probably smell it on him a mile away.

“Shiro, did you bring the extra deodorant?”

Shiro nods mutely and turns off the engine before reaching around to dig in his backpack. The stick he pulls out is clinical strength and Matt sends a prayer to whoever is looking out for him as he shucks off his pants and rolls it all over his legs before moving onto his upper body. Shiro doesn't even bat an eyelash as he accepts it back and rolls it around his own body.

They share a last look over the console, shake hands, and disembark with their suits and backpacks like men on a gallows walk. Two steps into the tent they're accosted by a stone-faced Krolia with two glasses of what looks like whiskey.

“Gentlemen.” Her expression doesn't waver as they offer her nervous smiles. “I hope this morning finds you both well.”

Matt looks down at himself, now dusty and caked in deodorant – then over to Shiro who looks a little green and sweaty around the face. “We're ah...doing great.”

Krolia nods at him, stoic as she takes them in. “I hope you both appreciate how much this means to Keith.” They nod like bobbleheads under her gaze. “Good... Salud.” Then she downs both shots back to back, spins on her heel, and marches back into the section Keith must be getting ready in.

Shiro blows out a shuddering breath as the flap flutters shut, hardly daring to whisper just in case she can hear him.

“Did we survive?”

Matt cuts him a sharp look, tugging him by the elbow into the flap on the opposite side as he hisses under his breath. “We won't much longer if you don't _shut up_.”

Shiro clamps his lips shut, eyes wide as he looks over his shoulder to the other half of the tent and pulls out his phone. He taps out a message, staring like a lost puppy as Matt feels his phone go off in his pocket. “Really Shiro?” Matt grumbles, pulling it out and reading it with a scowl.

'What are we going to do?'

Matt narrows his eyes and taps one word back before setting it down and rolling on more deodorant.

'Suffer.'

Shiro whimpers, reaches for his suit bag morosely, and prepares for the worst afternoon of his life.

 

Keith has to shove practically his whole fist in his mouth to keep from giving himself away as presses up against the other side of the tent flap. He can just barely see them through a gap in the doorway, but judging by the squeak in Matt's voice and his mom's tightly restrained mirth the plan is going pretty well. When she downs the shots and spins he scrambles back out of sight, face crumpling in glee as he catches her strained expression, vein nearly bulging from the effort not to cackle at them. They make brief eye contact and she loses it, tears of laughter streaming down her face as she bites at her lips to muffle the sound.

“Their faces!” She hisses, grinding her palms into her eyes. “They looked absolutely wretched.”

Keith giggles into his own palms, imagining the despair they must have felt when they realized the drinks were not for them. “Serves them right!”

Honestly, just the little glimpse of their frazzled lack of sanity is enough to ease some of the petty spite inside. At the end of the day these two fools are still his best friend and the love of his life – even if they are the biggest idiots on the planet.

But another hour of making them sweat won't kill anyone, and it'll feel so good...

“Should I text them more bullshit or ask Shiro to come to me so I can see his face?” He poses the question to his mom, thumbs poised to send the damning missive as she hums in thought.

“I would say... send the Holt another text about luck, and ask for Shiro to come in his stead.” Her eyes twinkle in mischief as she leans forward with a sharp grin. “You could tell him you need a pep talk before the ceremony.”

Keith stares at her, filled with awe and secondhand terror. “You are a master of psychological warfare.”

Krolia laughs and nods, standing up to gather their glassware as she drops a kiss to his hair. “It's genetic.” She winks and strolls toward the door. “I'm going to go check on the progress of the main tent – don't break the poor boy.”

He salutes as the flap shuts behind her, reaching for his phone with a smirk.

'I need some help over here but it's bad luck for you to see me – send Shiro?'

As soon as the message lights up as received he's stripping off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his tie – making sure his hair is artfully disheveled as he practices his best puppy eyes. He's pretty sure that he can hear their whispered argument as he presses his ear to the opening, scrambling back when he hears Matt's huff followed by Shiro's measured footsteps. They pause in front of the flap, making way for a wavering exhale in the silence, followed by a gentle tapping.

“Keith?”

Keith has to smother his sudden bout of snickers, forcing them under his best poker face as he clears his throat. “Come on in Shiro.” Hopefully he'll mistake the strangled laughter for nerves.

Shiro enters, hesitant as he peers around the little dressing room, catching sight of the two empty bottles of champagne. “You ah... needed something?” He takes a step in, pausing as Keith turns and fires his most pathetic look right into Shiro's heart. It's an instant knock out and he reaches to grasp Keith's shoulder. “How can I help?”

Keith bites his trembling lower lip and casts his eyes to the floor. “I can't seem to get this on right...” He lets out a short, self deprecating laugh. “I guess my hands are a little too shaky for the buttons.”

“Oh.” Shiro wheezes out, eyes dropping to the open shirt. “Do you – can I...?”

“Yeah, thanks Shiro.” Keith looks up at him with those big trusting eyes and a relieved smile. “I knew I could count on you.”

This is officially hell. His own hands shake as he does up Keith's buttons, swallowing hard when Keith laughs and undoes his belt to tuck in the front of the shirt. The tie doesn't go any better when the motion of Keith's adam's apple grazes his knuckles as he swallows. Shiro has to cover his whimper with a cough, which of course prompts Keith to lay the back of his hand against Shiro's sweaty forehead in concern.

“Are you feeling okay, Shiro?” The hand flips over and brushes the hair off his clammy skin. “Do you want to lie down here while I finish dressing?”

In. Hell.

“Oh, no!” Shiro laughs, far too high pitched to be normal. “Just allergies you know...” He coughs again for effect, hoping Keith doesn't comment on the utter lack of pollen in the middle of the desert.

“Hmmm.... alright.” Keith squints at him before sighing and patting at Shiro's collar, running his fingers down the length of his suit jacket. “But if you need... anything.” The fingers stop at the bottom of the jacket, dangerously close to his belt bucket as Keith's heated gaze holds his own. “You let me know.”

“Guh.”

It's not a word, but it's the best he can do as he nods and backpedals out of the room with a thumb jerked behind him. Keith has the decency to smile and wave at least.

The second the flap shuts Keith is shoving his face into a pillow and cackling, scrambling for his phone.

'Thanks for letting me borrow Shiro, he was just what I needed to settle my nerves ;-*'

Fifteen seconds later he hears the strangled groan from down the hall and whistles as he pours himself another drink.

 

“Oh god... Shiro this is a mess.”

An hour later, Matt is definitely not panicking. He's just breathing a little too fast as he peeks out at the arriving guests.

“What are we even doing? Katie was right, I'm a disaster.”

Shiro nods from the tiny folding chair he'd acquired, face firmly in his hands.

“She's always right.”

Matt whimpers and goes back to eyeing his watch. Lance and Hunk had tried to come in to see them but Krolia had pulled them to the side and muttered something that made them go unnaturally blank faced and turn tail... he doesn't even want to imagine what else could happen today. Maybe Keith is contagious with some weird alien illness and she just hasn't given up hope yet so she hasn't bothered to warn Matt and Shiro... maybe he's gotten sudden cold feet and she sent them to go sit around the appetizers and come up with the jokes that they're giggling over right now.

Maybe-

“Gentlemen.”

“Augh!”

Matt shrieks and nearly windmills into Shiro as Krolia materializes inside the room. She raises one cool eyebrow at him before inclining her head toward the door.

“We're nearly ready to line up.”

Matt swallows around the lump in his throat and throws a desperate glance at Shiro, but his partner in misery has only resignation written on his face now. He turns back to Krolia, avoiding direct eye contact as he shuffles his feet.

“O-oh. Yeah... okay.”

She nods once and disappears again, leaving them in what might be a cloying silence if Matt could hear anything over his own pounding heartbeat.

“Well fuck... here we go I guess.”

Shiro nods, glassy eyed as he stands and rests a hand on Matt's shoulder.

“Thank you for trying.”

Matt can only nod in return...

And then they're out and walking... past Keith's doorway, out of the tent entirely, then past the reception tent where their coworkers and family enjoy the shade... out to the arch to stand in line with their very closest friends who offer them peculiar smiles – like they can feel the turmoil that must be written on both of their faces.

Matt lifts his head from his shoes and gazes around at the cliffside, bathed in the hues of the sun that's just beginning to set.

It's heartstoppingly beautiful.

It's too bad he can't enjoy it.

And then Coran is grinning at them, eyebrows wiggling as music begins to play from the subtle speakers Pidge and Hunk had rigged up.

“Here he comes, lads!”

And then Keith.

Keith in his suit, beaming up at them with that nervous smile.

Keith with his hair braided so beautifully, woven with flowers.

Keith with his arm looped through his mother's.

Keith bathed in the light of the setting sun.

Keith stepping up to the alter, cupping Matt's hands in his own and-

“You're in the wrong spot, Matty.”

…

“What?” Matt blinks at him, wondering if perhaps he was supposed to stand on the other side of the alter and he'd managed to fuck this up so thoroughly that Krolia is literally going to disembowel him and-

“The best man stands behind me-”

And then Keith's grinning at him, eyes full of mischief as he tugs Matt into a hug, spins them both, and deposits him next to a bewildered Shiro.

“-and my groom is wearing purple tonight.”

His hands find Shiro's like magnets, pulling him close as he steps back into the place Matt had been standing, placing Shiro firmly in front of the alter with a look of utter adoration.

“Hey.”

The high pitched whine that escapes Shiro can only be explained as his brain disengaging entirely as it tries frantically to reboot.

Keith laughs anyway, pulling their joined hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to Shiro's knuckles.

“I love you.”

The next noise is a very attractive sob as Shiro crushes him to his chest.

“Keith...” He chokes as small hands rub at his back, soothing the emotions heaving through his entire being as their friends giggle and wipe away tears of their own. “Keith. I love you so much.”

“I know.” The words come out muffled into his shoulder as Keith gives him a pat.

Then Coran clears his throat.

“Ah yes! Beautiful love... which is what we're here to celebrate.” He pauses, eyeing Shiro above Keith's head. “In a timely manner.”

Sniffling, Shiro nods and steps back, instantly capturing Keith's hands again as he stares at him in disbelief. The crowd behind them doesn't exist. Their friends might as well be whispers on the wind. There's nothing in this moment except Keith and their joined hands as the sun washes over the cliff.

“Dearly beloved!”

And Coran.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union between two stubborn fools in love.”

Matt snorts from behind Keith, but promptly shrivels under Shiro's sharp look. Unfortunately, he can't do the same to the laughter that ripples through the audience.

“Shiro and Keith have been the two that we've all been rooting for and betting on for nearly a decade, and I think I speak for all of us when I say – it's about time.”

More laughter, this time from Keith as well as he nods along and squeezes Shiro's hands in his own.

“So without further ado... do we have vows?”

Keith nods, cheeky grin spreading on his face as he strokes his thumbs along Shiro's.

“Shiro... you are my everything. I used to daydream about this moment when I had bad days, or good days... or really any day – but I never thought I could have something so good in my life.” He pauses, swallowing hard as his lips wobble. “But you proved me wrong again and again, always there by my side like I was something worth fighting for. You mean so much to me and... my life would have been a lot different if it wasn't for you. If you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life showing you the love you deserve – as many times as it takes.”

There are tears dripping down both of their faces as Keith finishes, and Shiro can't breathe... can't even think past how much his heart feels like it could burst.

“Keith, I-” He chokes up immediately, bringing their hands up to wipe his eyes on his sleeves as Keith sputters out a wet laugh. “I love you so much and... I know it took me too long to get here.” Keith shakes his head, but Shiro doesn't let him argue. “No, it did... but you never gave up on me. I don't know what I did to deserve your devotion, but I swear I'll be the best husband you could ever ask for... I already love and cherish you.. and-” He cuts off, blushing as he realizes that he's starting to ramble. “I just... I'm so glad that we found each other - this is the best moment of my life.”

It's Keith who pulls in for the hug this time as Coran lets out an ugly sniffle beside them.

“That was so beautiful!” He wipes his nose on his flamboyant orange and purple officiant's robe and sucks in a breath. “No one is going to object, so... by the power vested in me by the Church of Altea, I now pronounce you... husbands! You may now-”

Keith doesn't even wait for him to finish before pouncing on Shiro, dragging him down for the kiss he's been waiting to experience for nearly half his life. His hands curl around broad shoulders as his toes do the same inside his shoes, and he whimpers into the kiss. Shiro takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, hands sliding to Keith's waist, and then lower as Keith bites his bottom lip.

It's not until Matt clears his throat obnoxiously that they break apart, panting as they realize that they're nearly putting on a softcore show for their friends and family.

Shiro flushes up to his roots but doesn't let go of Keith's waist as his _husband_ glowers at everyone.

“I've been waiting more than a decade to do that – you're lucky he still has his clothes on.”

And then he's being tugged down the aisle as the crowd laughs and throws rose petals at them on the way to the reception tent, then through a twinkling tunnel of fairy lights, and back into a little alcove where Keith pushes him against the wall.

“Surprised, Mr. Shirogane?”

“Keith...” Shiro breathes, tearing up again.

“You'll have to share that title now, you know.”

“Forever. Please, Keith... you can have it forever.”

Keith nods, and sticks out his pinky.

“Forever.”

Shiro wraps the finger delicately in his own and lets Keith use it to pull them back into the celebration of their love... and the start of their forever.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely words, there'll be snippets posted in another work when they strike :)


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